So the End Begins
by Elfin Maid
Summary: In her nightmares, she walks a burning woodland with tears of starlight upon her cheeks and a lock of ebony hair wound around one wrist. The ground tumbles away below her feet, and she wakes, but reality too is being taken by Shadow. The Fellowship is crumbling - and if they do not stand together as one, they will all fall. Tauriel Trilogy #3, pre-LotR/post-LotR.
1. One Ring

**Alright, folks! Here it is - the first chapter of TBE. Things start out a little slow, but get ready for a wild ride!**

 **A few things you should know before reading:**

 **\- This fic will probably make a whole lot more sense if you read So Be It and So It Begins first. While there will be references to past fics, and it might get a little confusing, you can read it alone as well. On the same subject, this is the most detailed and thought out fic of the three, and I am realizing that there will be pieces of TBE that do not match up with SBI and SIB.  
** **\- TBE is definitely AU. It was not originally intended to be that way, but if you are looking for something entirely canon-compliant, I recommend looking elsewhere.  
** **-This fic is a crossover of the LotR movies and the Hobbit movies. Since the books and movies are so different, and the main character is not included in any of the books, we will be using almost entirely material from the movies, though I will add in details from the books when possible.  
** **\- Characters will be a little OOC. To wrap the whole storyline up and tie it together with certain events, I will have to deviate slightly from their original personalities. So, if someone seems "off", there is a good chance I meant for him/her to be that way.  
** **\- I am in no way an expert in Elvish! This fic will contain a fair amount of Elvish, however, although the dialogue should be fairly easy to follow. Translations are also available at request.  
** **\- I love, love, love reviews, opinions and critiques! Seriously. Be it good or bad, let me know your thoughts! Just no flames, please. :) As long as the criticism you offer is constructive, I have absolutely no objection - in fact, I greatly appreciate it.**

 **Trigger warnings: Suicide/suicide attempts/suicidal thoughts, self-harm, depression, assault, violence. other (not yet added).**

 **I hope to see some familiar pen-names here!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _The world is changed._

 _I feel it in the water._  
 _I feel it in the earth._  
 _I smell it in the air._

 _Much that once was is lost. . . . For none now live who remember it._

 _It began with the forging of the Great Rings . . ._

 _Three were given to the elves. Immortal, wisest and fairest of all beings._  
 _Seven to the Dwarf-lords: Great miners and craftsmen of the mountain halls._  
 _And nine. Nine rings were gifted to the race of Men, who, above all else, desire power._

 _For within these rings were bound the strength and will to govern each race._

 _But they were all of them deceived..._

* * *

"You must find them, Tauriel." The wizard leaned heavily on his staff, eyeing her tiredly.

"I _will not_ , Mithrandir," she said flatly.

His face darkened slightly. "I am not giving you a choice in the matter. They will need you. If you wish, you can hide your identity from them and harden your heart against them, but it will not change the fact that, without you, their quest will fail." His eyes narrowed to slits, but somehow his face was still open and welcoming. "If I am not mistaken, you have been blessed with the ability of foresight, and despite your complete and utter denial of it have seen small pieces of what may eventually come to pass."

Tauriel remained silent, her eyes flashing green fire.

Gandalf the Grey sighed. "It always amazes me how much anger you can force into one glare."

"Tell me," she said suddenly, "how do you know this?"

He regarded her soberly. "That, I cannot say. It remains to be seen what paths we will choose. A single choice can change the course of a war."

Tauriel's eyes dropped. "I am afraid," she whispered, baring her emotions in a rare and impulsive moment of trust.

"I know," Gandalf said. "We all are. Indeed, who in their right mind would not be?" Placing a hand on her shoulder, he met her eyes. "You are strong, Tauriel. You may have been knocked down, but I believe in my heart you will rise again." Releasing her, he stepped away. "Just remember that the answers to what we seek are often staring us in the face. It is the way of the world, and neither change of season nor passage of time will change that."

" _Wait_!" The word burst from her, and she regretted it as soon as it left her mouth. "What of Legolas?"

He turned towards her, the skin under his eyes crinkled cheerfully. "Let it suffice to say that he, too, will be faced with many choices in the coming battles. Perhaps one of them will involve you. I know that you were close." His face hardened suddenly. "He no longer is willing to sacrifice everything for you, Tauriel. I would even go as far as to say he despises you. You abandoned him. He will not forget that for a very, very long time." Leaning heavily on his staff, he vanished into the dusky blue-grey light of early dawn.

* * *

Streaks of crimson were painted across the sky as a rider raced across the ridge. Twilight was quickly falling, and the dappled stallion was winded, froth flying from his mouth as long legs ate up the ground. His hooves pounded a rapid tattoo against the hard-packed earth.

As they raced towards the Prancing Pony, Tauriel glanced to the side. Another horse, straining to overtake her stallion, was galloping several hundred feet away. The rider was heavily cloaked, and while there were no noticeable weapons on his or her person, she would have bet several bars of gold that they were armed and ready to defend themselves.

Pulling back on the reins, Tauriel eyed the other animal. A high-stepping, dish-faced blood bay, the dainty mare was too delicate for her tastes. Her pasterns would soon begin to break down, followed by lameness. Bigger boned animal often had longer and more successful lives.

The mare turned her head to the side, ears pricked forward and a curious expression in her big brown eyes. Tauriel was suddenly reminded of two other mares, both lean and lithe with red-toned coats. They were just memories now, echoes of her past, but she would never forget them.

The little mare – or perhaps she was still a filly – was very clearly tired and winded. She was trying so hard, but Tauriel knew it would never be enough. A burst of anger filled her at the rider who was letting this tiny horse run herself to the ground.

Lips flattened into a thin line, Tauriel continued to ease back on the reins. Tálagor snorted in annoyance, but obeyed.

The bay mare shot forward, a squeal catching on the wind.

A smile tugged at Tauriel's lips. Tálagor, slowed to a canter, was chomping hard on the bit and eager to catch up with the other horse.

" _Lau, mellon nin_ ," she said firmly. She could wait.

Half an hour later, Tálagor paced through the gate. Blowing hard, the grey skidded to a stop. Stones skittered across the ground, churned up by his huge hooves and Tauriel's boots as she dismounted. She glanced around.

To her surprise, Tauriel saw the cloaked rider dismounting smoothly, a gleam of sharp eyes showing underneath their hood. Looping the reins around her hand, Tauriel urged her horse forward. The little bay nickered throatily.

A hobbit passed, obviously tipsy.

"Pretty pony," he slurred.

The "pretty pony's'' ears snapped back as he lunged, teeth bared. The hobbit yelped, dancing backwards despite his imbibed state.

"Not 'specially friendly, is 'e?" he said owlishly, blinking hard.

Tálagor rumbled low in his throat.

"He is not particularly fond of small folk," Tauriel said, unapologetic. "You would be wise to avoid him."

The hobbit nodded vigorously, then lurched away.

Tauriel watched him go, a splinter of unease piercing her. The roads were not safe. Not tonight. The wind had picked up, and it showed signs of storming. It was not a good time for the intoxicated hobbit to be blundering away.

Shaking her head, Tauriel glanced at the bay mare tied next to Tálagor. Securely fastening the stallion's reins, she edged towards the dainty horse. She would be surprised if this one was a kicker, but you could never tell.

Placing a hand on the bay's velvety soft nose, Tauriel smiled. There was something about this one that drew her in.

"Hello, little one," she whispered in Elvish.

The mare responded with a throaty whicker, nudging her face against Tauriel's body. Slightly surprised that she would respond in such a way, Tauriel considered the delicate blood-bay in a new light.

"You understand me, don't you?" she asked. The little horse bobbed her finely sculpted head emphatically, and for a heartbeat Tauriel saw Memory staring back at her.

A laugh caught hard in her throat. Pushing the mare away, her face fell.

"I'm sorry," she said softly to the horses. "I have to go."

Drawing her own cloak tight around her, she turned away. The skies opened, fat drops of rain falling down on her.

Somewhere out in the darkness, a shrill scream split the air.

* * *

 _It was cold. So very, very cold. Everything was covered in ice, melting underneath her bare feet as she walked the treacherous road. The thin white shift she wore did nothing against the chill. Shivering, she winced as her foot slipped._

 _"Legolas?" she called out. "Kili?" The silence was deafening._

 _A choking gasp came from behind her._

 _Whipping around, she felt a stab of pain in her foot. A shard of ice had pierced the soft skin in between her toes. A sob caught in her throat, and once again she watched Kili fall to the ground. Blood flowed from the gaping hole in his chest, hot and sticky. It reached her feet, covering them in rusty red, pooling around her ankles. Staining the snow red, it continued to rise. Now lapping around her legs, it soon covered Kili's body._

 _Crying out, she forced herself forward, desperately feeling for any sign of him. Finally, she felt his hand. Grasping it, she pulled upwards._

 _Kili's blank eyes stared up at her, and then suddenly shifted._

 _Falling back, she found herself staring at Legolas's blood-coated corpse. His grey eyes were filmed over, but his mouth still moved._

 _"Goodbye, Tauriel," he rasped, and fell again beneath the rippling red waves._

 _She screamed._

* * *

Tauriel woke herself with her own cry, her dagger drawn and in her hand as she panted, trying to make sense of her surroundings. Disoriented, she tried to calm herself, and slowly the painful ache in her chest subsided.

Blinking hard, Tauriel peeled her fingers off the hilt of her sword. Her bones ached. Nestled between the bay mare and Tálagor, she had watched and waited. When the Nine had first thundered in, her heart seemed to stop beating. She had held her breath, watched the swirling cloaks and the pools of darkness underneath their hoods. Their horses, massive red-eyed and coarsely boned creatures, had watched her in turn, their breath billowing in great clouds.

Shuddering, she berated herself for giving in to exhaustion.

The broken gate, a sober reminder of the evil lurking nearby, was being removed by a small band of hobbits. Tauriel eyed them nervously. Word would spread, she knew, carried by both the mouths of eager gossips and the ones who knew something was not as it should be. The creatures, too, would be whispering of the Black Riders and the One Ring. She could already hear the birds trilling away, repeating a single note again and again.

Drawing up her hood, Tauriel was suddenly grateful for the protection it provided against prying eyes.

"I have to find the Ring Bearer. The Nine are searching for it. The Ring is calling, I can hear it. Already, his will is weakening." The words were muttered, half to herself and half to the horses.

The little bay whickered throatily.

Tauriel turned and looked at her, her throat suddenly tight. Where was the mare's caretaker? The question rang loud and clear in her mind.

Jaw clenched, Tauriel turned away, then paused.

"You want to come with me, do you not?" The Elvish words came smoothly to her tongue, and even before she had finished speaking the tiny bay was muttering low in her throat. It was a sound of pleasure, and tingles ran down her fingers. This horse was far too alike her former mares for comfort.

"Very well, little one. You will come with me." She paused, then sighed. "I suppose I should give you a name, little one. I will call you Suldal. It is a name well earned."

Suldal muttered again.

"Will you follow me? I have no rope." She knew that it was odd, speaking to this horse as she was, but the words came smoothly to her tongue.

The mare whickered.

Resisting a smile, Tauriel flung a leg over Tálagor's back. Shifting slightly, she leaned forward to adjust his mane. The stallion swished his tail, annoyed.

Clicking her tongue, Tauriel urged him forward. Time was running out.

* * *

She rode hard, tracing their steps until she reached Amon Sûl, or Weathertop as it was called amongst the local folk. Small drops of rain were being spit from the sky, providing a small distraction from the chilling screams currently coming from the woods.

The chill was slowly creeping in.

Her hands growing numb, Tauriel watched as the man – Strider, they called him – left the four hobbits. The Ring Bearer appeared to be sleeping.

Now shivering slightly, she eyed the two horses. They would provide warmth and protection against the wind.

Shaking herself fully awake, she resisted the urge to abandon this seemingly pointless vigil. With a non-existent sigh, she placed her head flat on the ground. Her ears, fine-tuned to the sounds around her, were picking up hoofbeats. There were many pairs, most heavy and wild. And then there was one, lighter and more focused.

The sound of a pacing, Elvish-trained horse carrying a rider.

Shooting upright, Tauriel searched the area. A faint smell of smoke caught her attention. Choking on an exclamation of shock and surprise, Tauriel watched as five riders approached Amon Sûl. Cloaked in shadow, they sent a chill down her spine.

Fingers tightening on the hilt of her sword, Tauriel watched helplessly as, far above her, swords were drawn.

The Ring Bearer was resisting. They all were. But it would not be enough. The Ulaer were far too strong, and they were small and untrained.

Flexing her fingers, Tauriel began to rise. She would not – could not – stand by and watch them be killed. A shout was carried down on the wind, but it was not the hobbits that cried out. It was the man, Strider.

Craning her head upwards, Tauriel watched as fire bloomed on the Ringwraith's dark wrappings. Swords clashed and sung, and several Ulaer fell, burning bright in the darkness.

Slowly, silence fell.

She did not know that, above her, a blade had struck home.

* * *

They were searching frantically for something. The Ring Bearer – Frodo, the others called him – had been injured. She could see his life slowly draining away, much as if someone had sliced his wrist and let his blood pour out.

There was another elf here, she was sure of it. But they had not yet chosen to reveal themselves, and she was hesitant to do so herself. Her healing skills had long been forgotten.

Strider passed within inches of her, not noticing the shadowy figure pressed tightly against the tree. He held his light high, eyes roving the ground.

"There," he muttered to himself.

Tauriel regarded him with curiosity. He was unlike most Men she had ever known, and yet in most ways he reminded her of her kin.

A twig creaked.

Her head snapped to the side, looking for the source. A soft ring of Elvish steel, and then someone spoke.

"What's this? A Ranger, caught off his guard?"

The world faded around her.

 _Arwen._

* * *

 **This chapter was a prologue of sorts. Hopefully, it wasn't completely mind-numbing!**

 **R &R, please!**


	2. Fallen

**Well, somehow I got a writing bug and finished editing this chapter quite a bit before I had planned. So, six days later, here we have it. Chapter two.**

 **Thank you to all who followed and faved, and especially to those who took the time to leave a note. Now, responses to reviews . . .**

 **Jedi Kay-Kenobi and Guest, I promise you, Tauriel does not die! :p**  
 **moonryder, yes, she can hear the Ring. I will go more in depth about this later on - it is rather complicated. It also connects to her heritage, which will also eventually be explained in-depth.**  
 **warriorheart, your English is great. ;) You do raise an interesting point, as well . . .**  
 **annie, HeartnEarth, and xXx3LegTaur4Evr: Thank you for leaving me a comment! Hopefully, y'all will enjoy this chapter as well. :)**

 **Anyways, an overview of this chapter. I decided to bring Arwen's character forward in the story more. When I first watched LotR,I remember being disappointed that her character was essentially there to add an element of romance to the whole thing - in fact, now that I think about it, it was similar to Tauriel and her story in the movies. So, this chapter includes several nice long scenes with Arwen and Tauriel.**  
 **And yes, I know that my battle scenes suck. :/**

 **Anyways, enojoy!**

* * *

Her skin hot and cold in turn, Tauriel watched as Arwen dismounted. Frodo lay on the ground, his skin chalky and his breathing labored. Tauriel could feel the tension in the small clearing.

Arwen gazed down at the Ring Bearer. Her face was glowing in the dim light, her cheeks flushed. The three Hobbits gaped mindlessly.

The Hobbit gasped suddenly, back arching as his muscles contracted violently. In the shadows, Tauriel's eyed widened. The reaction was sudden and extreme. Silently, she wondered if Arwen had done anything to cause it.

"Who is she?" one of the other Hobbits demanded.

"Frodo," Arwen said softly.

"She's an elf," one answered, his voice hushed.

Arwen stood, her eyes filled with worry. "He's fading. He's not going to last. We must get him to my father. I've been looking for you for two days." Her words were directed towards Strider.

"Where are you taking him?" One of the three spoke out again. Tauriel glanced towards the trio, irritated. Silently, she begged them to be quiet.

Lifting the Ring Bearer up onto the horse's back, Strider listened silently.

"There are five wraiths behind you. Where the other four are, I do not know." Pushing Frodo upright on her stallion's withers, Arwen turned towards Strider.

" _Dartho guin Beriain. Rych le ad tolthathon_ ," Strider said.

Arwen looked him straight in the eyes, her mouth set. " _Hon mabathon. Rochon ellint im_."

" _Andelu i ven_ ," he said again, his voice tinged with worry.

"What are they saying?" one of the hobbits asked.

" _Frodo fîr. Ae athradon i hîr, tûr gwaith nîn beriatha hon_." She turned back towards Strider. "I do not fear them."

Strider stepped back. " _Be iest lîn._ Arwen. Ride hard. Don't look back."

Arwen spun the grey stallion, crouched low over his neck. Her body shielded the Ring Bearer as best she could.

 _"Noro lim, Asfaloth, noro lim!"_

One of the three Hobbits panicked, lunging forward as if to stop her. "What are you doing? Those wraiths are still out there!" he shouted.

Arwen did not turn. Before the sound of hoof beats had disappeared, Tauriel was racing towards her own stallion. For once, the wizard's wishes had aligned with her own.

If Strider had thought to put his own ear to the ground, he would have heard three sets of hooves, all pacing in time. And then, if he had listened even closer, a low pounding, a rhythm that, had he known what it was, would have struck fear in his heart.

The Ulaer were coming.

* * *

At first, all was well. Tálagor's pace was smooth, his hooves hitting the ground in a steady rhythm as, behind them, Suldal loped easily. But slowly, he began to falter. Favoring his right foreleg, the grey stallion eventually began to limp.

Finally, Tauriel was forced out of her daze by his breaking of stride, throwing her half-way out of the saddle. Cursing with frustration at the delay, Tauriel flung herself out of the saddle and wrenched the stallion's legs upward one by one. Eventually, she found the injured hoof. Heat and swelling were spreading up into the horse's ankle after his fall, but the injury was easy enough to discover.

Leaning back, Tauriel exhaled. Reaching forward again, she looked at the hoof, and then winced in sympathy. A stone, sharp enough to pierce the softer skin of the inner hoof, had forced its way into the frog and up into the hoof wall. It was far too deep to remove.

Gently, she fingered the stone, pulling back as the stallion flinched and staggered to the side.

Stepping back, Tauriel looked at the horse. Head hanging, foam dripping from his mouth and sides heaving, Tálagor was almost unrecognizable. A wave of guilt assailed her.

 _This_ , she thought. _This is what I eventually bring to those closest to me._ Closing her eyes for a long moment, she sent a silent thank you to the stallion that had carried her for several years.

Then her blade flashed out, slicing through the horse's jugular vein, and, in a back-stroke, pierced his heart. Blood spurted as the animal's knees buckled and he slapped to the ground. Death was quick, and for that she was thankful.

Removing the bridle from the horse's head, she cleaned it as best she could and tightened the leather straps.

Something pulled at her heart. Turning away, Tauriel looked at Suldal. The mare was uneasy, her ears flicking back and forth and nostrils flaring.

"Come," she whispered. Slipping the bridle over the mare's face, she mounted and flew.

* * *

"Arwen!" Tauriel shouted.

The figure on the stallion ahead of her turned for an instant. Tauriel could barely make out her face, pale with fear. The stallion slowed. Slowly, Tauriel pulled even with Arwen's mount, despite her mare's shorter stride.

"Tauriel," she gasped. "Wha – I cannot stop. They are behind us."

Heels clapped to Sudal's flanks, Tauriel glanced backwards. Far away, just distant blurs, the Nine had burst from some off-road. Moving fast, they seemed to be gaining at a rapid pace.

Words dying in her throat, Tauriel glanced at Frodo. A green crust was clumping at the corners of his eyes. Her stomach turned.

"Never mind," she said. "Arwen, you have to hurry. His strength is failing quickly; the Black Riders are right behind us. "

Arwen looked down at Frodo for an instant. "I know," she said softly. "I can feel it. It is draining faster now. The Ring he carries . . . it seems to be calling them, stealing his very life from his body."

At her words, Tauriel glanced down. Down to where she knew – she could feel it – the ring was fastened around a chain. A sliver of gold peeked through, tantalizingly near.

Heat suddenly washed over her. Fire burned at the edges of her vision, a flame that could not be quenched.

 _Tauriel . . ._

The word hissed through the air, and she inhaled sharply. With great effort, Tauriel forced her eyes away from the Ring. Shame filled her.

"Arwen."

Arwen glanced at her.

"Promise me that if it comes to a battle you will leave me."

Arwen recoiled as best she could in the saddle.

"No," she said. "I would not leave you. You ask too much, Tauriel. I would not betray a friend."

 _I would not betray a friend._

Arwen would not betray a friend, would not do what she had done. Tears pricked her eyes. Everywhere she went, everything she said, it was all a reminder. She had indeed made her choice.

"They are gaining," Tauriel finally said roughly. Ahead were trees, and beyond that she knew that there was a river. To that river they must go, and if they did not reach it all was lost.

" _Noro lim, Asfaloth_!" Arwen gasped. Both horses were straining, tendons standing out on their legs and necks.

" _Noro lim,"_ Tauriel repeated. Her heart was beating hard in her chest. "Please, _mellon_."

Time slowed to a crawl. Slowly, so very, very slowly, they neared the river. She could hear it, the rush of water. It was so painfully close, and yet so very far.

Winding and weaving in between tree trunks, letting the horses have full rein, Tauriel and Arwen raced towards the Ford.

Abruptly, a massive steed burst through a gap in the thick tree trunks. Her head whipped around, eyed wide and face pale. Panic swelled. Arwen gasped something to her, but it was unintelligible. Those black horses, eyes rolling in their sockets and blood-tinted foam flying from their mouths . . . Hands, steel-cased, reaching for _her_ , for Frodo – _for the Ring._

And then the river was before them. Just yards away, but it was too late. A hand grasped Frodo's arm, and he lurched. Arwen cried out, fear finally painted on her face.

Tauriel rose in the saddle, her sword in her hand. Her face set, she hacked downwards at the Ulaer's hand – if it could be called that. There was a sickening crunch, and a grating of steel on steel, but the Rider released Frodo. Arwen sped forward, splashing through the water to temporary safety.

"Tauriel!" she cried.

"Go," Tauriel growled. A blade clashed against hers, nearly ripping it from her hands.

Arwen half-turned her horse, then looked back. "Please," she begged. "Flee! I can stop them. Cross into the water, Tauriel."

From underneath a seemingly empty hood, something spoke. And it was the voice of her nightmares, her nightmares filled with blood and death. Black spots danced at the edges of her vision.

Tauriel turned the mare, and forced her onwards. She had feet – no, inches now – until she was in comparative safety. Water splashed over Sudal's hooves, and she forced a breath through her constricted throat.

The Nine paused, the horse's hooves chopping the sand.

"Give up the Halfling, she-elf," one of them rasped. Chills raced up and down Tauriel's spine. Something told her that this – this was what death sounded like.

Arwen drew her sword, the sound ringing through the air. Tauriel was still, her face chalky white.

"If you want him, come and claim him!"

The Nine drew their swords, a horrible rasping sound that grated on Tauriel's ears and made her stomach constrict violently. Her vision cleared. The Ringwraiths were advancing, swords drawn. Arwen began to speak, her words echoing slightly.

" _Nîn o Chithaeglir lasto beth daer; Rimmo nîn Bruinen dan in Ulaer_!"

" _Waters of the Misty Mountains, listen to the great word, flow waters of Loudwater against the Ringwraiths_ ," Tauriel whispered, automatically repeating what Arwen had said. The words were foreign to her, and yet she understood them perfectly.

Something shifted, and then a great wall of water swept down before them, thundering through the river. The Nine turned their horses, trying to run, then disappeared underneath the waves.

Tauriel turned to Arwen, her face slowly regaining color. A gasp came from the Hobbit. Arwen immediately looked downward. " No, no! Frodo, _no_! Frodo, don't give in! Not now! " The Ring Bearer's eyes rolled back, crusted with green at the edges. Tauriel moved forward, and then stopped. There was nothing she could do.

A tear, born of desperation and fear, raced down Arwen's cheek. "What grace is given me, let it pass to him. Let him be spared, Mighty Valar. Save him," she whispered. The silence that followed was chilling.

Finally, Arwen looked up, her eyes softer. "He has calmed." Suddenly, Tauriel noticed that one pale cheek was streaked with blood. Raising a hand to her own face, she looked down at her fingertips.

They came away red.

* * *

"Arwen?" Tauriel called, her voice hushed. Shadows slipped across the hall as moonlight spilled over the stone pillars.

"I am here." Hair falling freely across her shoulders and down to her waist, Arwen glided across the hall. With a start, Tauriel realized that the setting was similar to their first meeting.

 _Must everything I do remind me of the past?_ she wondered.

"Why did you send for me?" Tauriel asked.

Now close enough to touch, Arwen eyed her curiously. "You have not changed much."

Tauriel's mouth tightened. "Aye. And the same could be said for you."

Arwen laughed softly. "No, much has changed, mellon. I have found peace." Abruptly, Tauriel found herself comparing this calm, stately elf with the one she had known in past years – serious when it was required, but deep down a laughing, bubbling elleth with a surprising knack for swordplay.

Now, she was different. Somehow the two personas had combined and shifted, melding together and removing any impurities. Shaking away her thoughts, she spoke.

"What do you mean?"

She smiled. "Not peace, perhaps. But love."

A frown creased Tauriel's brow. "Love?"

Arwen laughed again. "You have not seen it?" Leaning closer, eyes sparkling and cheeks flushed, Arwen continued. "I know that you were watching me. I caught a glimpse of your two horses when I rode towards them. And if your eyes and ears were keen, you know what passed between me and Estel."

The frown deepened. "Strider." A sudden flush washed over her as realization came. "Oh." She paused, mind spinning. "Will you wed?"

Arwen nodded gently. "Eventually, if all comes to pass as it should." Head tilted to the side, she continued to gaze at Tauriel. "You have a part to play in this," she murmured.

"Yes," Tauriel said bitterly. "I do. I heard what the Council said, Arwen. I know of what the Fellowship is trying to do. And this is all that cursed wizard's fault," she spat. "If not for him, I would be far from here, and perhaps none of this would have come to pass."

"Mithrandir meant to do you good," Arwen replied.. "He fears for you and the slow decay of your mind."

A grimace twisted Tauriel's lips. "He knows nothing of me. I did not meet him until several years ago. As it was, he forced me into this – this _quest_."

"Ah, and that is where you are wrong," Arwen said gently. "He knows of what went between you and the Elvenking."

"What?"

"I believe that Thranduil shared with him your story – or, at least, what he knows of it." Leaning forward again, Arwen lowered her voice. "I have good reason to believe that Mithrandir knows more than the others do." She paused. "With the exception, perhaps of my father. I suspect that Ada is hiding something. He pushed some of my queries aside. And I have seen some things that make me question his role in the deception wrapped around you and your family. "

Tauriel lurched backwards, forcing herself to block out the emotions assailing her.

"I no longer seek those answers," she said roughly. "I have come to understand that it is a futile wish. Even more so, I have found that truths are often harder to understand than the many lies that surround us."

Arwen's eyes widened in mild surprise. "I was wrong," she said after a short silence. "You have changed." Stepping away from Tauriel, she began to blend in with the shadows surrounding her. "The Tauriel I knew would not have let a truth such as this slip between her fingers, nor so blatantly ignore the facts staring her in the face. Mithrandir was right. You have truly fallen, and I fear that you will never rise again. Despite your own wishes, you have a part to play in this battle, Tauriel. You may think you do not need the Fellowship, and perhaps you are right, but they need you."

Turning, Arwen began to move back down the hall. Abruptly, she paused.

"The Fellowship leaves at dawn on the morrow. Mithrandir alone is aware of your presence here. I advise you to keep well out of sight."

She disappeared.

A shiver raced down Tauriel's spine. Regret began to fill her, mixed with shame and fear. The Ring Bearer's words filed her head.

 _I will take it! I will take the Ring._

"You will take the ring," Tauriel murmured. A sigh escaped her lips. "And I will go with you."

But long after she had left Lord Elrond's halls, after she had slipped out behind the Fellowship and trailed them for many miles, words continued to burn in her mind, echoing again and again, taunting her.

 _You have fallen._

 _Fallen._

 _Fallen . . ._

* * *

 **I hated killing that poor horse. *Sniff***

 **Anyways.**

 **I am not sure when the next chapter will be up. I will be away from home for the next month or so, and writing time will be limited. As soon as I finish editing it, it will be up, though. ;)**

 **Reviews are love!**


	3. Bloodfall

**Alrighty folks! Here is chapter three!**

 **Thank you to those who reviewed, followed and faved. I promise, there will be some Legolas/Tauriel scenes soon! :) I am about to go out of WiFi range (I barely had time to upload this), but if I missed any questions feel free to remind me.**

 **Also, just as a warning - this fic is starting to really earn the T rating. This chapter contains some fairly dark stuff. If you are uncomfortable with it, I recommend you skip the two flash-backs towards the end (in italics). It's also something of a tear jerker. Consider yourself warned! ;)**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

At first, staying out of sight was relatively simple. Tauriel slipped between trees, her body shielded by trees and brush. The Fellowship continued on, seemingly oblivious. Only the wizard showed any sign of acknowledgment – a glance her way when they paused for a rest, a sigh when she refused to join them for meals.

If she had been able, Tauriel would have told him that she had no need of meals. Nestled deep in the folds of her cloak, several squares of lembas were hidden. It had been left at the edges of Rivendell with a note – _Perhaps this one time, the shadows will aid you._

A blatant reminder from Arwen that she was no longer free to do what she wished. She had snarled something, crumbing the parchment in one hand. Grudgingly, she had taken the bread.

Once, she had seen a rabbit go bounding off into the brush. Whipping an arrow into place, she released it, watching as it hissed through the air and struck its target. Blood seeped around the edges of the shaft.

She moved forward, planning on keeping the rabbit for herself, but stopped, her ears picking up a strange shuffling. A hobbit was stumbling through the trees.

Apprehensively, Tauriel disappeared behind a massive tree trunk. She watched as the hobbit, Sam, they called him, waded through the grass.

Sucking in a breath, she closed her eyes as he inevitably saw the rabbit. Opening them a second later, she looked at his face. His mouth was open, eyes roving the area in an unexpected show of bravery.

She sighed quietly.

Abruptly, she slid forward, grasping Sam's collar and effectively gagging him with her arm. He panicked, muffled shouts erupting from behind her thick sleeve as his body bucked and twisted.

"Shhh," she hissed in his ear. "I am a friend."

His struggles eased. Barely.

"Stop it!" Tauriel snapped. "I am here to help you. Your wizard sent me along, if that helps reassure you."

 _"Le m' gho!"_ Sam shouted through her sleeve.

"Will you stay silent?"

He nodded vigorously.

"If you run, you will find yourself in a rather compromising situation," she warned.

He mumbled something unintelligible.

She hesitated, but eventually did as she had promised. Dropping her hood, she placed her bow on the ground. She did not dare to remove her knives and sword from her person.

Sam turned, obviously ready to run for help. He paused, and then turned back towards her. Tauriel had crouched down at his level, eyes glittering, and a dangerous smile curving her lips. Red hair spilled from behind her tight braids, framing her face. There was a strange glow to her eyes.

Sam opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Swallowing hard, he tried again.

"W-who are you?" he croaked.

Tauriel cocked her head. "A friend," she repeated. "And I was supposed to stay hidden. I have been tracking you and the Fellowship for days now. I am the final ring of protection for the Ring Bearer."

Sam's eyes roved over her features, filing them away for future reference. Tauriel could see words forming on his lips, and was expecting the question when it came.

"You're an elf?" he blurted.

She sighed. "Yes."

"Do you know Legolas?"

A shadow slipped over her face. Something tugged at her heart, an emotion unplaced.

"Yes," she said quietly. "I knew Legolas."

Predictably, he once again opened his mouth to ask why she spoke in the past tense. Rising abruptly, Tauriel picked up her bow and gazed down at him.

"Remember," she repeated. "I was never here. The others know nothing of me. I will remain silent until I have no choice but to reveal myself. I will help those of you in need, but no more."

"How will you know when we need help?"

A smile curved her lips. "I am always watching." She turned, eager to disappear into the shadows.

 _"Wait!"_ Sam called after her. "What is your name?"

She stopped. And words fell from her lips, words she would forever regret.

"My name," she said softly, "is Seena."

* * *

And still they climbed. The air grew cooler, the landscape rockier. It became harder to hide. She knew that soon it would be inevitable: She would have to join the Fellowship.

She was constantly watching them. Many times she had awoken in the darkness, listening as soft words filled the air. The Ring was always speaking, whispering words for all whose mind was open to them, promising great power. But if you read between its words, you would hear only death.

Boromir was most affected by it. She saw his face when Frodo cupped a protective hand over it in their playful sword-fights, saw the greedy expectation glittering in his eyes.

She was scared. For the Ring was calling for her, too. She could hear the hiss of a deadly promise, a plea for her to take it. It would confuse her, but always she would pull away. Thoughts of her friends, of the Ring Bearer, even of Suldal, left behind in Rivendell, filled her mind and helped her cope.

Finally, late one night, as shivers wracked her frame in the darkness, she made her mind up. It was time.

The wizard was still awake. Leaning heavily on his staff, lines etched deep on his face, Gandalf kept watch over the four sleeping hobbits at his feet. All others were at rest, though Legolas slept with his eyes open and an arrow nocked on his bow.

She moved forward, gliding silently towards their camp. The meager light danced over her face, giving a wild gleam to her eyes and a harsh tone to her skin.

"Mithrandir," Tauriel said quietly, approaching from behind.

The wizard jumped to his feet, his weapon already drawn.

Tauriel winced. She had not meant to surprise him.

"Fear not," she said quickly. "I have come to join you."

Gandalf relaxed, but only just.

"Tauriel?" he demanded.

She moved in front of him, back to the fire and hood lowered. Dark shadows filled the hollows in her cheek bones and brow bones. "Aye."

Gandalf sighed, lowering himself heavily to the ground once more. His faith was absolute in her, despite all that had transpired.

 _He is a fool_ , she thought. _A fool to trust so easily and completely. I could have a knife in my hand even as I speak. The Ring Bearer could be dead in but a heartbeat._

"You are drawing nearer to the Pass," she said easily. "I can hide myself no longer. I would be a fool to leave you to your fate. My only condition is that no one knows who I am."

He regarded her with a hint of annoyance in his eyes. "I cannot imagine that you would be arrogant enough to believe that I know nothing of the conditions in the mountains."

She wasn't, but she did not say so. "Were you aware of the Ulaer following you until last night's moon-rise?"

"No, I was not." He sighed again. "I am surprised that they dare venture so close."

She snorted. "They want the Ring. And they will do anything for it."

He glanced upwards at her. "Have you heard it?"

She frowned. "Heard what?"

"The Ring."

Her frown deepened. "Of course. One would have to be both deaf and blind to not see and hear it and its effect on those in the Fellowship."

"Namely, Boromir."

She sighed. "Aye. I have seen his face when Frodo so much as glances at it. It is slowly corrupting him."

"And what of you?" Gandalf said sharply. "Your mind is strong, but you have taken many wrong turns in your life. What has the Ring said to you, Tauriel?"

She remained silent for several seconds, avoiding the question. "I have taken up my first name once again," she finally said.

"Tauriel is your first name."

She shook her head. "No. It is the name given to me by the Elvenking. My mother called me Seena. I have taken up my old name once more."

He looked at her sharply, incredulous. "Have you any idea of the horrendous acts those before you bearing that title committed?"

"I was unaware it was a title," she snapped, as flames rose before her eyes and blocked out her vision. She swayed.

* * *

 _Blood poured from a deep gash in her side, and her heart beat weakly. Still her sword flashed up, cutting deep into flesh and through bone._

 _She was dying, and she knew it. Choking, she felt blood begin to pour out of her mouth. Her armor was stained red._

 _Black spots danced before her eyes, and she could feel her breath failing. She tried to say something, and then collapsed backwards. Her blade drove upwards one las time, but this time it was not a foe she destroyed._

 _Impaled on the end of her blade, an elf hung, suspended in time for half a second. Together, they died, locked in a deadly embrace._

 _And still blood flowed, black and red, mingling and mixing as, inevitably, it always did._

* * *

Gandalf regarded Tauriel soberly. "The first one to ever bear that name killed one of her own kin. In death, she managed to destroy her child's life. Lord Elrond never forgave her."

Tauriel blinked and gasped. "She didn't mean to. She was dying."

Gandalf's eyes widened. "Are you defending her?" he demanded.

Her eyes dropped.

"She destroyed one of her own kin! She left three children behind, with no family to speak of other than the one that despised them. No matter the cause, it was unforgivable."

Her eyes snapped to Mithrandir's face as she opened her mouth to speak, but once again Tauriel had to steady herself. Another vision was washing over her.

* * *

 _"No!" The word exploded from her, shouted across an empty hall. "You will not take my daughter from me."_

 _Lord Elrond drew his blade. "You do not have a choice in this matter. You will give the child to me or fall with her in death."_

 _The elf cried out loudly, her shredded white gown exposing much of her body to the cool air. Tears fell like raindrops from her eyes, dotting the dress with dark circles. A knife was held in her right hand; tucked into the crook of her left arm a small bundle that squirmed and cried._

 _"You loved Seena," she said. "My mother would not have wanted this."_

 _Elrond's face darkened. "You know nothing of what you speak! Your mother killed one of her own. A mistake, perhaps, but still unforgivable. You were but a babe when she died. Now, you stand there with a knife in your hand and your own daughter in the other, and expect me to forgive you!"_

 _Only the whistling of the wind answered him._

 _Finally, she raised her wild eyes to his. "And what of the other child?" she whispered. "And the one I wed? Will you judge them as harshly as you judged me?"_

 _Elrond's face contorted. "Arandur will live, as will Aruelle. It is the daughter that you hold I fear may bring about our downfall."_

 _She drew the child closer, wrapping both arms around her and holding her tight to her chest. "Seena has done nothing!"_

 _"No, she has not," Elrond agreed. "But you have."_

 _The elf opened her mouth, long red hair whipping wildly across her face. Tears raced down her face as she slowly lowered the child to the ground. Then, in a single heartbeat, she whipped the blade around and plunged it deep into her own chest._

 _Lord Elrond shouted something, racing towards her, but it was too late. She was gone._

 _And still the baby sobbed, this time for its mother._

* * *

A tear slid down Tauriel's cheek. "The babe," she said softly. "What happened to it?"

"The child was taken in by Lord Elrond. And, like you, she was renamed."

Tauriel's eyes met his. "Audriel," she whispered. "My mother."

Gandalf was silent for several long seconds.

"Yes," he said.

* * *

 **I must admit, my eyes started to sting while writing that last flashback. :'(**

 **Anyways. I hope to get the next chapter up by the end of the month (yes, I know, I said one or two updates per month, but I can't help it!). Reviews are greatly appreciated and definitely help urge the editing process along. :)**


	4. Shattered

**Chapter four! I'm on the run again (sigh), but thank y'all so, _so_ much for all your support! It means the world to me. :)**

 **Please excuse any grammar errors, typos, ect., in this chapter - it was edited on a phone, and phones generally hate me.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

The sun had just crested the horizon, and already Tauriel found herself faced with a dilemma. Three tall, stern figures eyed her with distrust and annoyance clear on their faces. Gimli watched from several feet away.

"Who is she?" Boromir finally demanded.

Gandalf muttered something under his breath. "Her name," he said slowly, "is Seena."

Aragorn continued to gaze at her. His dark eyes were making her nervous.

"I am honored to join you," she said. A lie. She made no effort to disguise her voice.

Legolas's eyes sharpened as he recognized the smooth and melodious voice that often accompanied elves. " _Pedig edhellen_?"

"Aye," Tauriel responded. "I do." A truth.

Aragorn frowned. "You are an elf." It was a statement, not a question.

Still, Legolas studied her. She could feel his eyes on her, drilling through the thick cloak and into her very soul. She shivered almost imperceptibly.

"Yes," she said. "I come from Rivendell. Gandalf requested that I join the Fellowship on the quest."

And still he stared at her. Finally, he asked one of the questions she had been dreading. "Have we met? What do you know of those in the Fellowship?" Legolas's voice was cold.

Inwardly, Tauriel quailed. For an instant, she wanted to tell them all the truth and do away with her lies. "No," she said calmly. "We have not met, although I am acquainted with the Elvenking, who is, I believe your Ada. As for those around us, I am no expert. I know that you are from Mirkwood, and that Aragorn – or Estel – is from Rivendell as well. I know that Frodo is the Ring Bearer, and I believe Boromir hails from Gondor." She did not mention any of the other Hobbits, nor did she speak of Mithrandir.

Her vague answers did not appease Legolas.

"How do you know I am from Mirkwood?" he demanded.

She winced imperceptibly. "I knew your _Ada_ ," she said simply, repeating herself, hoping to let the subject die.

"Lower your hood," Aragorn requested calmly, picking up on Legolas's hesitation.

Tauriel hesitated. She had not truly tested the glamour before, and she was far from accomplished in the skill. Fingering the rim of her hood, she inhaled deeply. As she felt the magic strengthen, her anxiety faded.

She dropped the hood.

Her hair was a fine, ashen blonde; her brows dark and arched. Her face remained virtually the same in shape, but her nose was slightly thinner and straighter, her lips slimmer and her cheeks harshly defined. Her eyes alone remained completely unchanged. A clear, bright green, they were framed by long, pale lashes.

Her eyes met Legolas's. Grey burned into green, sending sparks of anxiety fluttering to the very tips of her fingers. Tauriel blinked, dropping her gaze.

"Satisfied?" she said sharply.

"No," Legolas said baldly. "I cannot place your face, but we have met before. I can feel it, just as I felt your presence." He shook his head. "And all this time I believed myself to be paranoid. I will leave it to Aragorn to decide."

 _He knew I was there_ , Tauriel thought, filing away the thought for future reference. She glanced at Boromir, in time to see the resentment flashing across his face at the dismissal.

"She seems trustworthy enough," Boromir inserted. His voice was harsh, but Tauriel concluded that it was naturally so. She wondered how he came to the conclusion, and if it was a lie.

Aragorn glanced at Boromir. "How so?"

"Her eyes," Boromir said simply.

It was Tauriel's turn to frown. "My eyes?"

"I have never seen such eyes in an elf. That fact stands alone. But my mother had green eyes, and she was honest all her life. I have never known someone with green eyes to be untrustworthy."

Another piece of foolishness. She wanted to scream. The color of one's eyes meant nothing!

"They run in the family," she snapped, and then paled, cursing her own foolishness. Many years ago, she had said those very same words to Legolas in a burst of anger. Once again her tongue had run away from her.

Legolas's face was tight. She recognized the expression. He was reaching for a thought, and though it was slipping away at present she had no way of knowing what he might remember later on.

Gimli moved towards her, glaring upward into the folds of her cloak. She knew that, at his height, he would be able to see every aspect of her face clearly. She breathed a sigh of relief that the glamour remained in place.

"She's an elf all right," Gimli declared. "And a fine looking lass, if I do say so myself."

She pushed back a smile. She liked Gimli, had liked him ever since she first saw him in Rivendell. The feeling had only intensified. "Thank you, master dwarf."

Aragorn had remained silent throughout the conversation. "You know Arwen," he said.

Tauriel swung herself around to face him. "How did you know?"

"She spoke of a dear friend who might be joining the Fellowship. I take it you are the friend."

 _Dear friend._

 _Mellon nin._

"Yes," Tauriel said softly. "I am, though I would not go so far as to say we are close." She could not bring herself to lie. Not this time.

"She spoke well of you," Aragorn said. "From what I have heard, you can handle a blade quite well. Arwen seemed quite impressed by your skills, if I remember correctly."

Thankfulness welled up inside her, tainted by remorse. She had pushed Arwen away, and still Arwen spoke of her as if she was completely innocent.

"I have held a blade in my hand for a good portion of my life." It was the only answer she could give.

Aragorn nodded. "Aye. I have no cause to doubt you. Pray we have no need to test your skill anytime soon." He turned to Legolas. "She will join us. Wake the hobbits. We move out in a half-hour."

"Have her train them," Gandalf interrupted from around his pipe.

Both Tauriel and Aragorn whipped around to face him. Aragorn looked surprised, but nodded his assent. "It will be as you wish." A question hung in the air, unspoken. Gandalf seemed to have no intention of answering it.

Tauriel glanced at Boromir, standing several feet away with his arms crossed and a sour expression on his face. A long sword hung at his side. Deep down, she felt a tug of curiosity. She wanted to know more about this strange, brooding man with a blade almost half his length hanging from his belt. If he carried it, he surely knew how to use it. And if he ever did try and take the Ring, she wanted to know what he was capable of.

"I will train them," she agreed, then nodded towards Boromir. "But I will need his help."

* * *

"Frodo."

 _Tauriel,_ the Ring said. She ignored it.

"Frodo, I need you to trust me."

He looked at her, his heart beating slightly faster than normal. _He is scared_ , she thought, and she could not blame him. He was alone with her, alone with someone he did not know and the Ring always calling.

Tauriel crouched down to his eye level. His eyes were not scared, and she grudgingly admitted that he was brave.

"You will learn to fight," she said.

"Fight what? he asked.

It was a good question, and one she could not fully answer.

"Everything and anything that might stand in your way." She hesitated. "Enemies are all around us now. But most of all, you have to learn to fight the Ring."

He paled. "The Ring is strong," he said.

Tauriel nodded. "But you are stronger." She rose, studying him with sharp eyes and a question burning in her mind. The cloak she had worn constantly dropped away, revealing her leather arm-guards and breastplate. Her attire was similar to what she had worn back in Mirkwood as Captain of the Guard, but slightly looser in the legs and tighter in the waist. The color, too, was different, a deep brown that blended in better with most backgrounds.

Immediately, she saw Frodo's eyes focus on the pair of daggers strapped to her waist, then flick to the sword hanging from her left side, and the quiver full of arrows hanging close to her leg.

"The daggers. Where did you get them?" Frodo asked her.

Her eyes flickered. "My mother gave them to me many years ago." She flipped one of out its sheath, handing it to him with the blade facing towards her. The Elvish steel shone bright in the dusky half-light right before dawn.

Frodo considered the blade with something akin to awe. Lifting a finger to the keen edge, he fingered it. Tauriel did not have a chance to tell him that it was razor-sharp, and could easily part flesh even if you barely touched it.

Wincing, Frodo quickly removed his finger and pressed it hard against the cloth of his trousers. A dark stain spread, then began to ebb.

"Watch yourself," Tauriel warned him. "The blade is keen."

"Are we to fight with these?"

She nodded. "Aye. If you do not hold a true weapon, you will never learn use one properly." A hiss of steel against leather, and the twin to his blade was in her hand. "Attack me," she said calmly.

He hesitated, and then rushed her with his blade held high. Immediately, Tauriel saw dozens of faults – in his stance, the way he held his blade, even the way he was breathing, they were all wrong.

"No," she said. "Stop."

He froze, a frown creasing his brow. "What?" he whispered.

She moved towards him. Adjusting the way he held the dagger would be easy; that much she knew. But his instinctive actions would be harder to deal with. He would have to learn to breathe evenly, to move smoothly and to hold his blade correctly before she would risk sparring with him.

"Breathe out," Tauriel ordered. Frodo did so, relaxing slightly and letting his right hand drop smoothly to his side. Her eyes did not miss the natural, easy movement. "There," she said. "That is what I want you to do when you fight. It has to be smooth. When you rushed me, you were forcing yourself. That is wrong."

Someone tripped and swore behind her.

 _Boromir_ , Tauriel thought, turning to face him.

"At long last," she said aloud. He was late.

Boromir's jaw clenched, but he said nothing in his own defense. "I am sorry," he said curtly. "What do you wish me to do?"

Tauriel studied him. The sword hanging at his side drew her attention. She glanced at Frodo, then back to Boromir.

"I want you to fight me," she said.

For an instant, he looked surprised, but the emotion quickly faded, replaced by a burning curiosity likely identical to her own. He wanted to know what she could do.

"Very well." He drew his sword, examining the point before sliding it back into its sheath and waiting for her to prepare.

"Frodo. The dagger," Tauriel said quietly. Frodo nodded, and unknowingly handed it to her blade-first. A small cut opened up on the thick callouses of her palm, but she hardly felt it. A dagger in each hand, she tossed them high, catching them by the hilt as they fell. A sigh escaped her lips. This was what she loved. The smooth metal was warm in her hands, an extension of her arm.

Boromir's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but whether it was from surprise or something else she did not know. "Are you ready?" he asked.

Tauriel nodded her assent. "Frodo," she said, "It would be wise to move away."

Frodo paled, nodding vigorously and taking a half-dozen steps backward. Tauriel saluted Boromir, and he did likewise. There was a second's pause, and then he moved smoothly towards her, the sword held easily in his hands.

Always move first. It was a mantra drilled into her head, but in this case she did not make the first move. She waited. Waited until he was but a heartbeat from running her through before she lifted a single blade against his sword. Metal clashed and sung, her dagger emitting a high pitched ringing sound as it grated against steel.

Boromir disengaged. He was slightly warier now, his eyes cold, searching for an opening.

Tauriel smiled.

A flicker of anger, and then he was coming for her again. She spun, ducking and twisting, almost sweeping him from his feet. Her booted foot connected with his chest, sending him staggering backwards. She moved towards him, her white hair swirling around her knees. Boromir scrambled to regain his footing, lurching away from her.

She laughed. Not out of spite, but out of joy. The daggers in her hands seemed to be humming, and her whole body was alive. She had not realized how much she missed her once-common fights with other elves in Mirkwood.

Spinning towards him, she ducked under Boromir's blade and twisted his head back. One of her daggers was at his throat.

He froze, and then grudgingly dropped his sword. "I yield," he said.

She released him, a smile blooming on her lips. He was still, a frown on his face as he looked at her. She held out a hand, and after a moment's pause he accepted it. She heaved him to his feet.

Frodo gaped at her from several yards away. She smiled at him, too, her cheeks aching with the force of it.

"You handle a blade well," Tauriel said. "I should not have allowed myself to show emotion. It was your undoing, and was not completely fair." She admitted to herself that those words were likely false, but continued. "If it eases your mind, I was not laughing at you. Indeed, I have not enjoyed a fight so much for many years."

His face was still stern, but the anger in his stormy eyes was fading. She knew deep down that he would not hold a grudge against her, as many might.

He studied her, and oddly enough his gaze did not make her feel uncomfortable.

"Thank you," Boromir said.

Tauriel laughed. It bubbled up from her, easy and light. She had not laughed for a long time, she realized. Not really. "No," she said. "Thank _you_."

* * *

Wrapping her cloak tighter around her body, Tauriel shivered. They were drawing very close to the Pass, and the air was cool enough to make her feel slightly chilled. Behind her, swords clashed as Aragorn and Boromir engaged each other. Legolas and Gimli watched, offering advice and occasionally urging them on. The constant sound was beginning to grate on her ears.

Her relationship with the members of the Fellowship was slowly changing and developing. Gimli, Frodo, Sam, Pippin and Merry had all accepted her fully. Legolas had finally begun to trust her. Aragorn remained mostly silent, but something told her that he too was tolerating her presence. Gandalf seemed grateful towards her, for some unknown reason.

But Boromir had become one of her closest friends. Strong and silent, she found herself relying more and more on him and his sound advice.

 _I trust him_ , she admitted to herself. _Perhaps even more than I trusted_ – trust _Legolas._

"Seena," someone called. Tauriel blinked, not yet accustomed to the name.

"What?" she asked, turning.

Legolas stood barely a foot from her. She jumped and began to swear, then caught herself. Most elves did not curse. Legolas had told her once that he knew very few who did. Shaking herself, she dropped her hood and met his gaze.

"What?" Tauriel repeated.

"Do you carry weapons on you at all times?" Legolas asked. His eyes were a silvery blue, and they were distracting her.

She nodded. "Aye. My daggers, a sword, and of course a bow and quiver."

He arched a brow. "You enjoy archery?" It seemed more than a simple question.

Tauriel hesitated. "Yes," she finally said. "When I was younger, I tended to avoid it. I have since changed my opinion." _True_ , she thought.

He seemed curious. "I had a friend who so despised archery that she would go to great lengths avoiding it. Give her a set of daggers, and she could best all but the elite. Strangely enough, she was highly skilled with a bow as well. She just never implemented or practiced it"

"You had a friend." She had noticed that he spoke in the past tense, and curiosity got the best of her.

"Yes," he confirmed. "She was beautiful, wonderful; always laughing, always ready to listen when it was needed. I loved her. I would have given anything for her." His voice was wistful, tinged with regret. He sighed. "But then she started to change. My father gave her too much to carry, and she was not strong enough to hold the burden. She was eventually banished. I believe her to be dead." The last word was spoken harshly, definite and cold as stone.

A ball of nausea was growing in Tauriel's stomach. "What was her name?" she asked quietly, almost pleadingly.

He looked directly at her, trust glowing warm in his eyes. "Her name," Legolas said, "was Tauriel."

Her world shattered.

* * *

 **On the bright side, at least it was a nice long chapter. :p Anyways, it might be a while before the next one is up. I am taking a short break from writing, but since I have already written the next twenty chapters all I have to do is edit them. As soon as it is finished, I promise that the chapter will be up. ;)**

 **Thanks again, y'all!**

 **Reviews are love!**


	5. Redhorn

**OK, folks! Here it is! Chapter five. Thank you all so much for your support! Some things y'all got right, some wrong, and some things are yet to be revealed. ;) On to the reviews!**

 **ClaraS, he does, but not necessarily in a good way. I will be exploring this more in-depth when the Fellowship arrives in Lorien.  
From what I can tell, the other main question is about Tauriel and Boromir's relationship. Boromir will eventually play a crucial part in this story, especially with Tauriel and Legolas's characters.  
I hope I got all the questions! If I missed yours, feel free to remind me. ;) Thanks again, y'all!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _I believe her to be dead . . ._

 _Her name was Tauriel._

 _Tauriel . . ._

She stared in silence at the fire. Emotions warred inside her, battling for control. Grief was most prominent, followed by fear and guilt. She was tired of this never-ending nightmare.

It had been but an hour since Legolas had uttered those three words, bending her life out of shape. She did not know what to think.

D _oes he truly trust me, even if it is as this other elf I represent?_ she wondered. _Do I trust_ him _anymore?_

A shiver racked her body.

 _I believe her to be dead . . ._

"What if it is a lie?" she mumbled aloud. "What if he truly does despise even my memory, and suspects that something is amiss with my presence here?" Words that she had said many times in the past were coming unbidden to her lips, dancing forth as they had so many times before.

 _Her name was Tauriel._

"He is no fool." That much was very apparent. "He has always suspected something, has always been more wary in my presence." She fought to keep her voice low, even though speaking aloud was not necessary. "It is only in the past few days that he has finally begun to trust the elf I have presented to him – to them. What if he wishes nothing more than to run his blade through my heart?"

A tear slid down her cheek, unnoticed and unwished for.

"He loved me."

Her throat began to constrict.

"I betrayed him, though I did not know it at the time." Remorse filled her, pummeling at her walls of stone. "I did not know," she whispered.

But it was not enough. It would never be enough. _This was my choice,_ she realized. _I gave it all away for my freedom. I do not want his love._

Immediately, doubt assailed her. _But do I?_

She stood abruptly, trying to accept the fact that never again would Legolas care for her like he had before. Before the blood, and the tears and the pain she had brought to those who were dearest to her.

His heart had been broken. And though she did not realize it, a small crack appeared on her own.

* * *

Audriel fumed in silence as elves bustled around her, preparing for a feast despite the somber setting.

Lord Elrond was oblivious to her presence, but his daughter seemed to be slightly more attuned to who she was. Arwen had given her a calmly curious look, either unconcerned with her presence or dismissing her.

Muscles bunching in her back, Audriel whipped her bow to full draw in a mere instant. She was ignored by all around her.

A sigh escaped her, born of frustration and desperation.

She lowered the bow, studying it. With a draw weight of over eighty pounds, it was capable of launching arrows a considerable distance while still maintaining chilling accuracy.

But it was not her weapon of choice.

Audriel frowned. She had given the two daggers to Tauriel, and had not found a blade their equal since. Her current set of daggers were smaller, and they dulled more quickly. The other blades were passed on down generations, ever since Seena had first fallen in battle. Lord Elrond had recovered them and passed them on, and from generation to generation they went – always to the first daughter, and never to a son. No elleth had ever passed on without carrying on the legacy.

But slowly, the line had failed. Some had died natural but tragic deaths, and some had taken their own lives. There were whispers of a curse. Even other elves began to be wary. The stunning combination of blazing red hair and clear green eyes was no longer welcomed, but regarded with a fair amount of fear.

A shiver raced down Audriel's back. She had given the dagger to her sister, who had passed it on to her own daughter. But that daughter had slit her own throat, and so Aruelle retrieved the twin blades and returned them to Audriel.

Audriel had kept them. And then, when the time was right, she had given them back to Aruelle, who had forced them into Tauriel's hands right before her death.

They were the only ones left. It was a chilling thought. Once, they had been so strong. But they slowly fell and faded, and as the blood flowing in their veins weakened so did they.

 _Tauriel is still alive._ That much Audriel was sure of. Some part of her was humming softly, alerting her to her daughter's past presence here.

"She came and went but days ago," Arwen said softly. She was approaching, only feet away as she spoke.

Audriel's hand went for her knife, and she was fully prepared to plunge it through cloth and skin and muscle and into Arwen's heart.

Arwen quickly stilled, her eyes wide. "Fear not. I ask only that you listen to me before you decide what to do. I have no knowledge of who you are, only that you seek Tauriel."

Slowly, Audriel sheathed the blade.

"Tauriel was here." Her voice was husky.

Arwen tilted her head. "Aye," she said in affirmation. "She went with the Fellowship in their quest to destroy the One Ring."

Hope filled her for a second. The Ring was inexplicably tied to her family, that much she knew, but that was all. It was one of the secrets she was in search of.

"They journey where?" A frown creased her normally smooth ivory brow.

"It is unknown what road they will take, but in time they will go to Lorien. It is inevitable. I have seen their indecision, and though Mithrandir leads them, soon they will be forced to go on without him."

"The Lady of the Wood may not welcome them with open arms. She may not wish to house such evil."

Arwen smiled broadly. "She will." She was incredibly certain, Audriel noticed, far too certain for comfort.

So she forced a smile, wondering if the tale was a truth or lie, and began to spin a journey in her head. "Thank you."

She turned, and she ran.

* * *

Legolas was silent. Tauriel sent small, inconspicuous glances towards him every minute or so, watching as his facial expressions portrayed a wide range of emotions.

Oddly enough, he did not sense her gaze. Occasionally, his eyes would glaze over for a second or two, and then he would shake his daze away.

His mind was spinning.

 _It is not her,_ Legolas insisted to himself. _It cannot be. I saw her face; it was not the same. And yet her voice . . . it is eerily similar. I should not have told Seena what transpired with Tauriel all those years ago. That much I will readily admit._

In an impulsive moment of trust, he had said something that might come back to haunt him later on.

His lips compressed suddenly, causing Tauriel to once again eye him inquisitively.

 _What if she is still alive? What if she is here, is watching every move I make? What if the Ring has corrupted her?_ In the years after he had thought Tauriel had faded, Legolas had become slightly paranoid. Often he would begin to panic when he saw a red-haired girl or woman, his mind registering only the blood-red hair. His breath would begin to fail, and then the girl would turn and he would see that there were no big green eyes, that there were no full lips or high cheekbones.

He would be relieved, but underneath it all there was always a hint of disappointment that he loathed deeply, for it was as if he missed her; wanted her back.

Shaking himself, Legolas registered Seena staring at him oddly from the corner of his eye.

"What?" he demanded, his voice harsh.

Tauriel recoiled. She had very rarely heard him speak that way. "I was only going to inquire what was on your mind," she said softly.

He looked at her again. Seena had lowered her hood, and he could clearly see her ashen-blonde hair pulled sharply back from her face in dozens of intricate braids. Her eyes were big and green, framed by those oddly pale lashes. Her harshly contrasting black brows were drawn together in a quizzical frown.

For a instant, he thought he saw the clean-cut lines of her nose shimmer slightly, the shape becoming slightly less-defined and the end almost upward-tilting. And then, it was gone.

He stared for a second, and then shook the image away.

"It was nothing," he said aloud. "I was thinking."

Her ivory brow smoothed in understanding, and she stood.

"I will leave you with your thoughts, then," Tauriel said. She flipped the hood over her head, adjusting the cowl slightly. He watched her as she glided smoothly away.

 _Nothing,_ he thought desperately. _It was nothing. It has to be._

* * *

"One Ring to rule them, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them." Tauriel stared at the ground, unaware that words were spilling out of her mouth. _"One Ring . . ."_

Gandalf looked sharply at her. "Eh? What's that?"

She jumped, paling. "What?"

He frowned. "You are aware of what I am speaking."

Vehemently, Tauriel shook her head. "Forgive me. I am not."

He sighed. "You spoke of the Ring. _'One Ring to rule them, One Ring to find them,_ ' and so on. How did you come to understand what is carved onto the Ring?"

Impossibly, she became even paler, her skin turning almost grey. "I did not know I was speaking of it."

Mithrandir's eyes sharpened as he looked hard at her. Chills raced up and down her spine, and her fingertips began to burn.

"It is calling you." It was not a question.

Her eyes flicked upwards to meet his. "Yes," she whispered. "It is calling me."

"You must continue to resist it." Fear flickered over Gandalf's face as he continued to watch her. "You are strong. Soon, it will matter not if the Ring is calling."

Her eyes sharpened. "Of what are you speaking?"

Gandalf looked inexplicably guilty. Lowering himself, he brushed snow from the broad rock and winced as he sat fully. "There will come a time very soon now when Frodo will make a choice. He will leave the Fellowship and set out alone. Perhaps it will be for the best." He sighed.

Feeling suddenly very young and insignificant, Tauriel watched him in silence. "How do you know this?" she finally asked.

He remained silent for several moments. "I have a certain amount of foresight." He glanced at her. "Not as much as you, perhaps."

She frowned. "I do not see the future."

Gandalf chuckled at her vehement statement. "You have not had strange visions? Not glimpsed great battles and pieces of your family's past, then? No, Tauriel. You have the gift. It is only self-denial that prevents you from seeing even more."

She swallowed, hard, not noticing that he had called her by her second name. "You are saying that I am like Arwen."

"Aye. Whether you like it or not, this is a piece of you that you cannot destroy."

At his words, Tauriel's hand shot to her throat, to her darkest personal secret. She noticed that he was still watching her closely, measuring her reactions. Her hands slid down her arms, coming to rest at her slim wrists.

"I – I do not understand," she faltered.

He regarded her wearily. "You do not have to understand it. Look deeper. You will find it."

She was silent. Her fingers lightly rubbed circles on her leather-cased wrists, wrists that, she knew, were crisscrossed by small white scars. Tauriel shivered. The pulse of her own blood was nearly deafening, pounding in her ears and humming low in her throat.

She swallowed, remembering the crimson flow that, years ago, had covered her hands. That day, something in her had died.

Deep down, she could feel it stirring again. It was unwelcome, and she wanted to cut it out of herself – to take her blade and slice away this fearful disease that she should not have, and to never let it overtake her again.

But there are some things that, no matter how hard you try, always return. Love is one of those things. It is a part of you, woven into your very core. It is an emotion deep enough to cause both death and life; and to kill it is to destroy something in you.

She did not know that.

* * *

Icy cold wind lashed across Tauriel's face, stinging her cheeks. Her eyes watered slightly from the chill, and her hands were beginning to crack and bleed.

Up ahead, Frodo faltered, falling and rolling on the soft snow.

"Frodo!" Aragorn called, moving forward to help the hobbit. Tauriel was already there, brushing Frodo down and searching for the Ring. It was no longer hanging from his neck.

She glanced at Boromir in time to see him pick the Ring up, gold glinting sharply in the sharp lighting.

"Boromir," Aragorn said quietly.

"It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt . . . over so small a thing." He held the Ring by its chain, watching it jealously. There was a strange tone in his voice. "Such a little thing . . ." he whispered.

"Boromir!" Aragorn broke in. "Give the Ring to Frodo."

Boromir looked sharply at Aragorn, his eyes soon flicking past him and resting on Tauriel. Her hands were concealed in the folds of her ever-present cloak, but both were wrapped around the hilts of her daggers. "As you wish." Painfully slow, he lowered the Ring into Frodo's hand. "I care not."

 _Ah_ , Tauriel thought. _But you do._

* * *

 _"So, Gandalf, you try to lead them over Caradhras. And if that fails, where then will you go?_

 _"If the mountain defeats you… will you risk a more dangerous road_? Cuiva nwalca Carnirassë! Nai yarvaxëa rasselya taltuva ñotto-carinnar!"

* * *

"There is a fell voice in the air!" Legolas called, a hint of fear in his voice. Faintly, Tauriel could hear something, though what it was she knew not.

" _It's Saruman_!" Gandalf bellowed above the whistling wind. Even before the words were out of his mouth, great pieces of rock were falling around them.

Tauriel slammed herself against the stone walls to one side, bringing Frodo with her.

"He's trying to bring down the mountain! Gandalf, we must turn back!" She did not know who spoke. Voices and shapes were beginning to blur together.

 _"No! Losto Caradhras, sedho, hodo, nuitho i 'ruith!"_

Thunder crackled and rolled, and a mountain of snow fell over them, blinding Tauriel and blocking out her senses. Struggling, she burst through the powdery white ice and gulped in a great breath of air. Beside her, Legolas pushed his head through as well.

Reaching down, Tauriel grasped Frodo's cloak and forced him upwards. Her glamour shimmered, and she gritted her teeth, trying to strengthen it before it collapsed entirely.

"We must get off the mountain!" Boromir gasped. "Make for the Gap of Rohan and take the west road to my city!"

"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard!" Aragorn shouted.

"We cannot pass over a mountain," Gimli growled. "Let us go under it. Let us go through the Mines of Moria."

* * *

 _"Moria. You fear to go into those mines. The Dwarves delved too greedily and too deep._ You know what they awoke in the darkness of Khazad-dûm: Shadow and flame."

* * *

There was a moment of eerie silence. Warning bells were ringing loudly in Tauriel's head, tolling incessantly. Fire flickered over her vision, but she gritted her teeth and pushed the image away.

Finally, Gandalf spoke.

"Let the Ring-bearer decide."

" We cannot stay here!" Boromir cried. "This will be the death of the Hobbits!"

Tauriel could feel their wills weakening. Finally, the cold was taking its toll.

"Frodo?" Gandalf asked quietly.

"We will go through the mines," Frodo finally said, his voice shaking. From her place beside him, Tauriel could hear him clearly. She flinched, trying to fend of the stab of certainty that not all of the Fellowship would make it out of the mines.

Silence fell again, sending a chill through her very bones.

"So be it," Gandalf said wearily. "We will go through the mines."

* * *

 **I had to cut this chapter a bit short. Sigh. Ah, well, hopefully the next one will be plenty long! It will be up as soon as possible. In the next chapter, I will have some more interaction between Boromir, Gandalf, Frodo and Legolas. I will also be trying to integrate some more of Merry and Pippin. They are such interesting characters, with so much potential development.**

 **R &R, pretty please! I love hearing what y'all think, be it good or bad. Ideas are also welcome! ;)**

 **'Till next time!**


	6. Mines of Moria

**Finally, I finished editing this chapter! Thanks to all those who reviewed, followed and faved. ;) Love y'all!**

 **I know that I suck at replying to reviews (I do try, but often I just can't find the time), but I promise you that I read each and every single one. They mean the world to me!**  
 **Warriorheart, yup, here it comes! :D**  
 **Guest and CoffeenEdcoFFe, so glad you have enjoyed it so far!**  
 **Guest, LOL! I apologize, for this chapter is fairly suspenseful as well. I'm afraid that it is a bad writing habit of mine, haha!**  
 **rosslyn67, hopefully this chapter is not a disappointment! I ended up re-writing this, and despite a nasty case of writer's block managed to finish it.**

 **Also, there is something weird going on with FF's docxs. The dividing lines in some previous chapters (and this one) have been randomly disappearing. I have been trying to fix it, but I apologize if things are a bit confusing.**

 **Enjoy (hopefully!)**

* * *

"The walls of Moria!" Gimli gasped in awe.

Tauriel spared him barely a glance before returning her gaze to the slightly green stones she was currently crossing. Covered in moss and spotted with small puddles of vile water, she had no wish to slip and fall. Dancing lightly around them, she moved impatiently towards the head of the column. There was a small rustle of movement behind her, and she knew that Legolas was following her.

As the Fellowship gathered around the silvery outline of the doorway, Gandalf moved closer to the smooth wall of rock, reaching out a hand. His fingers ran along the impossibly sleek stone, unimpeded. " _Itidin,_ " he said quietly. "It mirrors only starlight and moonlight."

A cloud passed over the moon, briefly covering it. As it slipped away, a silvery light washed over them once more. Tauriel caught her breath as, once again, ancient letters and symbols appeared, stronger than before. Woven together, they created an arch over where the door surely would be revealed.

Gandalf spoke again, louder and clearer. "It reads, 'The door of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter.'''

"What do you suppose _that_ means?" Merry demanded.

"It's quite simple," Gandalf replied confidently. "If you are a friend, speak the password and the doors will open." It did not seem so very simple and clear-cut to Tauriel, but she wisely remained silent. Wizards were not to be teased and trifled with. Gandalf raised his arms slightly. " _Annon edhellen, edro hi ammen_!"

Tauriel watched for several heartbeats, holding her breath.

Nothing changed. The hobbits shifted restlessly beside her.

Tauriel sighed softly. "Mithrandir," she said calmly, "I will be waiting by the water if you require assistance."

* * *

Tauriel stared sightlessly at the murky water, her skin almost feverish despite the cool air. Her eyes were glazed over, her hood lowered and white hair spilling around her cheeks. Though she did not know it, underneath the cloak the ends of the long strands were turning a brilliant red.

Fire played at the edges of her vision, taunting her. It would push forward when she least expected it, and then as she pushed it fiercely away it would disappear. Her mind would stagger at the suddenness, and she would withdraw.

"Seena." Boromir touched her shoulder.

She jumped slightly, caught unawares. The glamour faded, and then strengthened as she turned to face him.

"Boromir." Her voice had an odd lilt to it when she spoke his name, she noticed idly, without any accent and yet with one at the same time. Legolas said it in much the same way.

"Do you hear the voices?" he demanded quietly,drawing her attention back to his face. His mouth was but a thin line.

She cocked her head, fine-tuning her hearing. There were faint echoes, mixed with the now constant crackle of flames. Slowly, she became aware of overlapping whispers, and as she focused harder they vanished.

He looked at her sharply. "You cannot hear it."

She hesitated, not yet completely sure of what he spoke. "I hear many things," she said slowly. "I cannot say if it is the same sound you are aware of." It was an obvious play for more information.

Boromir leaned closer, his eyes burning into hers. "The voices," he said, his voice low and urgent. "I cannot say – I must be going mad. Something is always whispering. I hear it always, at night, even now. The temptation – " He broke off abruptly, drawing back.

She regarded him soberly, torn between a ball of anxiety and the warm glow inside her that was pleased he came to her. She did not know what to say. It was sickeningly clear that the Ring was slowly succeeding in its corruption of him. She opened her mouth, paused, and snapped it shut again.

"I am sure there is a reasonable explanation," she said slowly. There was a cold stone in her stomach, weighing her down. With every breath, iron bands wrapped tighter around her ribs.

Abruptly, she stood. "Mithrandir requires my assistance."

Boromir opened his mouth, a question ready to burst from him. But he stopped, with words poised on the tip of his tongue. Tauriel frowned in confusion.

"What?" she asked sharply.

He shook his head. "Nothing," he said wearily. "`Twas but a passing thought."

She stared at him for a second longer, then turned and slipped away.

* * *

Arwen slid the ancient parchment carefully out of its leather binding. Wincing as the edges crumbled dangerously, she glanced around her. Lord Elrond was nowhere in sight, to her relief.

Biting her lip, Arwen scanned the first paragraphs. Written in Elvish, the penmanship was incredibly smooth.

 _I began this day with a bucket full of water in the face,_ it read. _My brother seems to relish his role. I am younger than him, but it matters not. He will not let me become weak, he says._

 _In fact, he is the one who gifted me with this – this diary, if that is what it is called. It is to be a record book of sorts. I will not write down any name but my own, as I know not who will read this in years to come._

 _I will start by introducing myself. My name is Seena, and I am half-elven, one of the two in my family to choose this path. I sincerely hope I do not come to regret it._

 _My tutor . . ._

Arwen rolled the parchment up again, a smile blooming on her lips.

"Yes," she whispered. "This is what I need."

Silvery streaks of moonlight danced over Arwen as she quickly replaced the rolls of parchment she had shifted and slipped away. In seconds, her figure had disappeared.

Lord Elrond, overseeing the feast, looked sharply at the great tree that graced the courtyard. He could have sworn it was laughing.

* * *

"Ah," Gandalf sighed. Tauriel scowled. His incessant mumbling was grating heavily on her nerves. A muscle twitching directly under her eye, she finally gave in and moved away from him. She could not bear to stay a second longer.

Sam watched sadly as Aragorn unsaddled Bill, the pony Lord Elrond had gifted them with. Tauriel had barely acknowledged the gelding's presence since joining the Fellowship. The shaggy animal was always there, in the background, but had never been important enough to seriously study.

"Mines are no place for a pony," Aragorn said softly to Sam. "Even," he added, "one so brave as Bill."

"Bye, Bill," Sam murmured. Tauriel studied him curiously. He seemed genuinely attached to the shaggy little pony.

"Go on, Bill, go on," Aragorn encouraged. "Don't worry, Sam. He knows his way home." He slapped the pony on the rump.

"Goodbye, Bill," Sam repeated sadly.

There was a sudden splash from behind her. Tauriel spun, an arrow already nocked, her bow at full draw. With a sigh of mingled relief and annoyance, she saw that it was just Merry and Pippin. The tension on the bow string eased, and she replaced the arrow in its quiver.

Arm raised, preparing to launch another stone, Pippin was grasped firmly by Aragorn. Tauriel frowned. She had barely registered his movement.

"Do not disturb the water," Aragorn said ominously. Boromir had come to stand behind them, and Tauriel glanced at him. Aragorn did the same,and she saw something passing between them.

Aragorn laid a hand on the hilt of his sword, and a flash of apprehension hit her. Whipping back towards Gandalf, who was now accompanied by Frodo, she prepared to warn them, to prepare them for a possible fight.

As she approached them, Gandalf sighed in despair, lowering himself to sit beside Frodo.

"I tried," he said. Frodo peered at the inscription, written in Elvish. A smile appeared on his face.

"It's a riddle," he said quietly.

Gandalf's eyebrows shot upward.

"Speak, friend, and enter," Frodo continued softly. "What's Elvish for friend?"

"Oh . . ." Gandalf opened his mouth to provide an answer, but Tauriel cut him off.

" _Mellon_ ," she said clearly, her voice carrying. " _Mellon_ is Elvish for _friend_."

Something rumbled. She swung her head around to look at the wall, and then caught her breath. It was a wall no longer. With a hoarse grating, the door slid open. As one, the Fellowship peered into the shadows.

Nothing was revealed. There was not an ounce of light available. It was inky black, the darkness almost palpable.

Warily, Tauriel took the incentive. Taking a torch from Aragorn, she stepped forward into the shadows. Behind her, there was a soft tinkling of water. She glanced back but saw nothing. Inhaling, she tested the cool air. It smelt of old blood, and she felt death all around her.

All but Gimli followed hesitantly. The dwarf moved forward eagerly, the meager light reflecting off his helmet. Something crunched underneath their feet.

"Soon, mistress elf, you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the dwarves: roaring fires, malt beer, red meat off the bone," Gimli said loudly, his voice echoing. "This, my friends, is the home of my cousin, Balin . . . and they call this a _mine_ . . ." He snorted in disgust. "A _mine_!"

A light flooded the chamber suddenly. Tauriel recoiled slightly. All around her, scattered under foot and crumbling like old parchment, were bones. Her eyes wide, she swung her gaze around the room.

Death surrounded her. Bodies of dwarves were strewn across the room, ancient armor rusting and crumbling away. Arrows pierced them.

Tauriel closed her eyes against the pain. Horror filled her, so strong and intense she feared she would vomit. Her stomach clenched threateningly.

 _Dead. All of them_. She resisted the urge to scream. _Like Kili_ . . .

"This is no mine," she finally choked out. "This is a tomb."

"Oh, no. No, _no_!" Gimli gasped harshly.

Legolas moved swiftly forward, jerking an arrow from a skeleton. Cobwebs floated away on the slight breeze as Tauriel cringed. "Goblins," he said quietly.

There was a ring of steel as Aragorn and Boromir drew their swords. Tauriel ripped her cloak away, clearing the way if she needed to draw arrows in quick succession. There was another large quiver secured on her back, along with a double scabbard that held two other throwing knives. They were saved only for deadly situations, when she had no other options. She knew that the fletching on the arrows were likely tangled in her hair, but for now it mattered not.

Fitting several arrows onto the bowstring, Tauriel forced a small amount of tension into the bow. A small amount of comfort, lent by the deadly weapons she held, warmed her.

Abruptly, she relaized that they were now they were retreating from the horrible darkness, away from death.

"We make for the Gap of Rohan. We should never have come here," Boromir said with finality. There was a slight tremor in his hands. Tauriel could not find it in herself to disagree with him.

There was a splash, and Frodo cried out. Tauriel whirled, panic flaring deep inside her. _We cannot lose him . . ._

Aragorn hacked at the tentacle holding Frodo, and indecision warred inside her. She could throw her knife and sever the slimy appendage in a heartbeat, but she feared she would hit Frodo.

The water boiled as more tentacles burst into the air, flailing as they reached for Frodo. Her eyes widened. Jumping forward, she sliced easily through the rubbery flesh. Sheathing her daggers, she whipped an arrow out of its quiver and reached for the bow slung over one shoulder. As the creature rose out of the water, she fired three arrows in quick succession.

Beside her, Boromir parted the pale flesh quickly and efficiently. His sword hissed through the air rapidly, connecting with its target each time. She was loosing herself in the euphoria of the fight.

 _Frodo._

"Frodo!" Tauriel cried to Boromir, and it was a warning. She wanted to reach out, but she was not close enough. Frodo was falling . . . _falling_ . . . and then he was safe, standing shakily on the ground as Boromir steadied him and then sent him racing for the cavern

"Into the mines!" Gandalf roared.

"Legolas!" Tauriel shouted, watching another arrow hiss and curve through the air. Then Legolas was behind her, covering her as she, too, raced for the doorway.

She glanced back, and saw Legolas grimly facing down the monstrosity. A curse burst from her mouth as she spun, grasping him by his arm and shaking violently. " _Go_!" she cried in his ear, and together they ran back towards the darkness.

Tentacles ripped at the stone, tearing away the door. Rock fell over the archway, dust exploding as it settled heavily over the opening.

The hobbits coughed and sneezed as the foul air rose up around them and then slowly began to settle. There was a crackle, and Gandalf's staff cast light over them.

Everyone turned towards him, waiting for words of reassurance and guidance.

They were sorely disappointed.

"We now have but one choice," Gandalf said heavily. "We must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard. There are older and fouler things than the Orcs in the deep places of the world."

* * *

 **Sigh. Another short chapter. I'm trying, folks, I am!**

 **Anyways, I hope that this chapter was not a complete let down. I may go back and edit it again. Also, have y'all been OK with my writing style in the last few chapters? I feel like it is changing again, and that sometimes I am not completely clear with what is happening and who is talking. The definition between Seena/Tauriel has also been a point that I feel like I might change. I refer to her as Tauriel, but pretty much everyone else in the Fellowship calls her Seena.**

 **Anyways, I would love to hear your thoughts on this and anything else! Good or bad, it matters not. ;)**

 **R &R, please!**


	7. Namàrië

**Chapter seven, finally! This a ridiculously long chapter, and has not been completely edited, but hopefully it will make up for my previous short ones. Thank you to those who followed, faved, and reviewed! Love y'all!**

 **Warriorheart, happy (very much belated) birthday, _mellonamin_! Thank you for your feedback, I appreciate it! LOL! Your mind is not crazy at all. ;) I did include a little of that in this chapter, so hope you enjoy it!  
Deliso, haha! Yes, you would think so. :p  
Guest and Amazing Stella, here ya go! **

**Enjoy! :)**

* * *

"Quietly, now," Gandalf said softly. "It's a four day journey to the other side. Let us hope that our presence will go unnoticed."

Tauriel closed her eyes. She felt trapped, felt as if every step she took was leading her closer to death.

Shooting to the head of the group, she grasped Gandalf's arm. "Mithrandir," she said hoarsely, "there are bells tolling in my head. They are warning me – us – I am sure of it. You said to listen, and I did so. This was not the right path, _mellon_. I beg you, do not ask that Frodo barter with his life!"

He sighed, looking suddenly so very, very old and tired that pity flashed through her.

"I understand, Seena," he said slowly. "And if one were to offer me another path, I would likely accept it gratefully. But we are trapped. We have no options. The guardian sealed our fate. We will perish if we do not move forth."

She bit the inside of her mouth until it bled, salty, corrosive liquid pooling on her tongue. Gandalf turned away, leaning heavily on his staff. There was nothing more he could say.

Boromir touched her shoulder as he passed. She glanced at him, surprised to see that his eyes were filled with understanding. Frodo, too, patted her arm. Aragorn merely looked at her, his expression unintelligible. Legolas gave no sign of acknowledgment.

She lingered behind, watching as shadows played on the walls. Skeletons were strewn across the ground, bristling with arrows, and the air was musty. She could almost taste the remnants of a battle in her mouth. It was unsettling.

With one last glance, she turned and moved quickly towards the retreating figures of the Fellowship.

* * *

Gandalf frowned heavily as he eyed the three corridors. Legolas shifted slightly, hyper-aware that, behind him, there was another elf eerily similar to one he had known so well years ago.

"I have no memory of this place," Gandalf muttered.

Behind him, Seena sighed. From what Legolas had observed, she was highly impatient and loathed the slow pace that the Fellowship was currently moving at. Often, she would draw her blades when they came to rest, and begin to sharpen them. It seemed almost compulsive. The sound would eventually begin to grate on his nerves, and he would move away, keeping an eye trained directly on her.

He was always watching. He was watching as she answered Aragorn's questions with small traces of hesitation. He was watching when Boromir and Frodo first attempted to fight her, though none of them were aware of it. He was watching when Gimli began to challenge her skill as a warrior, and when Seena bit back a laugh at his words. It had become a daily occupation.

Seena, he had quickly realized, was not only an expert archer, but quite possibly one of the best sword fighters he had ever seen. In recent memory, only his father, Lord Elrond, and but a handful of other elves exhibited the same blinding speed combined with such effortless skill.

As far as he could recall, Tauriel had not been as skilled with a bow as Seena was. But it had been a skill she never truly tried to develop, content as she was with her chilling accuracy with a pair of daggers.

Seena was blindingly fast. He had seen her nock several arrows at once, releasing them in but a heartbeat. He had no doubt that she could easily match his own speed, and perhaps even surpass it.

Tauriel had been far from his level in skill, at least when he had known her. If she had not faded, she could easily have continued training, honing her skills for battle.

He glanced at Seena. Her eyes were closed, her skin pale. For some reason, she seemed oddly nervous in their current atmosphere. There were dark circles under her eyes.

Gimli moved closer to him, murmuring something about splitting every goblin's head open with his axe. Legolas spared him barely a glance.

The more Legolas considered it, the more he was inclined to think that Seena was really Tauriel, or vice-versa. He had not forgotten about the strange circumstances surrounding Tauriel and her family.

But Seena most definitely did not look like Tauriel. Tauriel had been unable to place a glamour on herself, as he well remembered, and that was a glaring hole in his theory.

"Are we lost?" one of the hobbits demanded.

"No, I don't think we are. Shhh. Gandalf's thinking."

"Merry!"

"What?" Merry hissed.

"I'm hungry."

Behind him, Seena coughed abruptly, surely covering a laugh. Frodo moved forward, touching Gandalf's sleeve.

"There's something down there," Frodo whispered.

"It's Gollum," Gandalf responded quietly.

"Gollum!" Frodo exclaimed.

Shaking his head, Legolas turned his thoughts back to Seena. He could still feel the shape of her fingers, branded onto his shoulder. Heat flared there once again, and he lifted a hand to his shoulder. Try as he might, he could not help feeling that something was very, very wrong with her presence in the Fellowship. And yet, he was inexplicably drawn to her.

He feared that, deep down, he was coming closer and closer to caring for her. When Tauriel had first left him behind, his whole body ached with the pain of it. She had been a part of him, and then that part had been viciously ripped away. There had been no warning – she was there one day, and gone the next.

Seena was like Tauriel. And yet, she was so different. Everywhere he turned, there was a reminder of Tauriel, but then Seena was there, easing the pain slightly; distracting him.

He shook his head again, the noise around him flooding back.

"It's a pity Bilbo didn't kill him when he had a chance," Frodo said bitterly.

"Pity?" Gandalf sounded surprised. "It was pity that stayed Bilbo's hand. Many that live deserve death, and some that die deserve life." Legolas wondered into which category Tauriel would have fallen. Surely she was gone. "Can you give it to them, Frodo?" Gandalf demanded.

Frodo frowned.

"Do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment," Mithrandir continued. "Even the very wise cannot see all ends. My heart tells me that Gollum has some part to play yet, for good or ill, before this is over. The pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many."

"I wish the Ring had never come to me," Frodo said softly. "I wish none of this had ever happened."

Gandalf smiled sadly. "So do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us." There was a note of finality in his voice. "There are other forces at work in this world, Frodo, besides the will of evil. Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, in which case, you also were meant to have it. And that is an encouraging thought." His face brightened. "Ah! It's that way!" He pointed to the right hand tunnel.

As one, the Fellowship scrambled to their feet. Seena alone was already standing, Legolas noticed.

"He's remembered!" Merry exclaimed with great relief.

"No," Gandalf said with a smile, "but the air does not smell so foul down there. If in doubt, Meriadoc, always follow your nose!" He laughed.

Legolas smiled ruefully as he laid a hand on Merry's shoulder. "Come, _mellon_. It is best that we hurry."

As he stepped forward, he could feel eyes on his back. Something told him that, if he were to turn, a pair of large green eyes would meet his.

He shivered.

* * *

 _They say that red hair is quite unusual, and should be treasured. I heartily disagree._

Arwen's mouth twitched with amusement as she turned the page.

 _I had done everything I could. My hair fell almost to the ground, and it was a rather large thorn in my backside. But there, I will not resort to profanity to express my feelings._

 _My hair is ridiculously long, slightly curly, and very, very heavy. I often braid it in a single strand and then double the braid up. While I am not particularly tall, my hair is still considered very long. I cannot say how much I despise it. Today, I finally gave in and picked up my small throwing knife. I had just sharpened it, so it was very sharp, even for an elvish blade. I cut almost one foot off of my hair, and my head feels startlingly light.._

 _I have no doubt that my brother will panic when he sees. I must admit, I will take a certain amount of pleasure in his reaction. I am sure he will not disappoint._

 _I have begun extensive practicing of archery. I have always been drawn to it, and though my brother prefers a sword in his hands, a blade carries no fascination for me. It is so . . . simple. But an arrowhead is so_ different _. You can shoot an arrow in so many different ways, and the thrill of hearing it smack and hiss as it connects with its target is thrilling. I have begun asking my brother to shoot arrows for me to knock from the air._

 _The first time I did so, he did not fully understand what happened. He stared at me, and there was such a look of complete confusion on his face that I could not keep my laughter in._

 _Needless to say, he was not exactly appreciative of my efforts. But he did come back, and for that I am grateful._

 _Sometimes I worry about my brother. He has far too much responsibility for one so young, even though he is of age. He never laughs. I rarely see him smile._

 _He says that I am too happy. I cannot help but to disagree. In truth, I would much rather be happy with myself than to be miserable._

 _I must go. Perhaps I will write again soon._

Arwen frowned, placing the old parchment on the table.

"Truly," she murmured, "this will be . . . interesting."

* * *

Tauriel paused, waiting as Gandalf stood in the arched doorway.

"Let me risk a little more light," he said, tapping his staff. Light flared, and shadows shot up on the walls. Frodo smothered a gasp.

"Behold!" Gandalf exclaimed. "The great realm and Dwarf city of Dwarrowdelf!"

Tauriel gazed upward at the mighty pillars of hewn stone, and then moved her gaze downward. Before her stretched an empty hall. Black walls, polished and as smooth as glass, caught her attention as they flickered in the dim light.

"Well, there's an eye opener and no mistake!" Sam said, almost reverently. Slowly, all began to step forward.

A door, smashed and covered with broken arrows, was just ahead. As her gaze sharpened, Tauriel saw that several goblin skeletons were strewn across the floor. Her heart was heavy as she realized what would likely lie inside.

Gimli choked something out as he saw it, rushing forward.

"Gimli!" Tauriel cried. He paid her no heed, and she raced after him. Bursting into a vast, empty chamber, she gasped.

A narrow shaft of sunlight, pouring from a small hole in the roof, illuminated the room. Skeletons were piled high, and dust filtered through the musty air. Light fell on a stone table set in the middle of the room. It was a great slab of white stone, covered with cobwebs and stained with an odd rusty color.

Her gaze flicked back to Gimli. He had fallen to his knees, and the pain on his face was making her own eyes sting.

"No . . . no . . . oh, no!" he wept.

Behind them, Gandalf quietly approached, gazing down at the runes carved on to the stone.

"'Here lies Balin, son of Fudin, Lord of Moria,'" Gandalf read slowly. "He is dead, then." Tauriel closed her eyes. "It's as I had feared," he continued slowly.

Carefully, he lifted the rotting remains of a book from the tomb. There were slash marks on the cover, and it appeared to be drenched in dried blood. The hairs on the back of Tauriel's neck stood on end as he opened it, pages crackling in the heavy silence.

"We must move on," Legolas hissed behind her. "We cannot linger." She glanced at him briefly, her gaze falling back onto the ancient parchment pages.

"'They have taken the Bridge and the second hall,' " Gandalf read softly. "We have barred the gates, but cannot hold them for long. "

Chills raced down her back, images suddenly flashing before her eyes.

"The ground shakes."

She shook her head violently, trying to clear her vision. She could see them, here, alone in the dark. Fighting for their lives.

"Drums in the deep," Gandalf read hoarsely. It was too quite. Too dark. Her eyes would not focus. "We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark. Will no- one save us? They are coming."

Tauriel choked back a cry. She could not stand it. She stumbled, catching herself right before she fell. No one was looking at her, focused as they were on Gandalf. Her hands were clenching and unclenching on her daggers in a battle for control.

 _"They are coming."_

Tremors shook her body as she fought desperately against the wave of panic that was trying to flood her. Abruptly, her past flashed before her eyes. One massive battle, filled with death and bloodshed. Guilt and regret filled her, so intense that tears welled in her eyes.

"Seena," Legolas murmured, reaching for her arm. She wrenched away from him, the spot where his fingers had brushed her cloth-covered skin burning red-hot. All rational thought had left her. Her breath came in great gasps, her eyelids fluttering violently.

Something clattered loudly. Tauriel's head jerked up, her eyes wide, her mind clearing at the possibility of danger. Pippin stood in stunned silence by the well.

Gandalf rounded on him furiously, angrier than she had ever seen him before. "Fool of a Took! Throw yourself in the next time and rid us of your stupidity!" He was shaking with his rage, and this was a side of him that Tauriel had never seen before. It was slightly unnerving.

Pippin stared guiltily at them all. His eyes were big. Silence fell as they strained their ears for any noise.

 _Drums in the deep._

A great pounding noise echoed. The hobbits jumped. Tauriel flinched.

 _A shadow moves in the dark._

Horns blasted, faint and far away. Seconds later, more horns answered. Harsh cries and running feet filled her ears.

 _They are coming_.

"Mr. Frodo!" Sam cried, horror on his face. Tauriel looked sharply at Frodo. He was staring at the short blade he wore around his waist. An icy blue glow emanated from the scabbard. His face pale, Frodo drew the blade, and he was instantly illuminated.

"Orcs!" Legolas exclaimed. Tauriel breathed a sigh of relief. She did not fear _them_. Her blade was sharp and her senses keen. She would fight, and do it well.

"Get back!" Aragorn said harshly, his words directed towards the hobbits. "Stay close to Gandalf."

Tauriel stepped forward. Beside her, Aragorn began to wedge and brace the doors. Something caught her eye, and she peered between the gaps in the wood.

She focused on the creature, and then jerked back as if she had been burned. "They have a cave troll." Her voice was completely unperturbed.

Boromir paled slightly as Legolas fingered the fletching on the arrow nocked on his bow. Gimli snarled, snatching up two rusty, ancient axes and leaping onto the tomb. His face contorted in rage.

"Let them come!" he growled. "There is one dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath!"

Tauriel took several steps backward, towards the hobbits. With a ring of elvish steel, she drew her blade. Calm washed over her in great waves. Hesitating, she realized that it would be best to shoot as many of her foes as possible, before they reached her and had access to the hobbits. She sheathed it, removing her bow from her shoulder and checking that the quiver of arrows hanging on her right side was still easily accessible.

The door shattered, and instantly everything was thrown into chaos. As soon as she knew her aim was true, Tauriel released arrows in rapid succession, aiming for the goblins' throats. Beside her, there was a rapid _hiss-smack_ , and she knew that Legolas was copying her rapid movements.

The cave troll bellowed, fumes flying from its maw, sweeping its club in a downward arc. Aragorn stumbled, falling back, no longer protected. Tauriel opened her mouth to scream a warning, but no sound came out.

And then Boromir leapt forward, his sword flashing silver as he sliced through the thick skin on the cave troll's arm. Green blood spurted from the wound, coating the ground, making their deadly dance harder.

She whipped around, dropping her bow mindlessly to the ground and drawing her sword. Sam was backed up against a wall, one hand clutching a sword and the other a saucepan. Desperately, he walloped the goblin over the head with the pan. It dropped to the ground, fluid oozing out of its cracked skull.

His face turned green, but he smashed into another goblin. It, too, collapsed.

Surprised, Sam eyed the pan with appreciation, the sickly pallor fading from his skin. "I think I'm getting the hang of this."

A smile curved the corners of her lips upward, unexpected in the heat of the battle. Whipping the sword in a complex series of movements, Tauriel cut down several goblins as they leapt for her throat. Her lip curled in disgust as a backstroke sliced open scaly, crusty skin.

"Foul creatures," she murmured, distracted for an instant. She did not see the cave troll lunge forward until it was too late.

Frodo threw himself backwards in an attempt to escape the deadly spear head. "Aragorn!" he cried, desperation written on his face. Tauriel cried out, throwing herself forward into the goblins barring her way, slicing through flesh and bone without a second thought.

It was too late.

Sam screamed as the troll stabbed at Frodo again, the spear tip connecting with enough force to lift Frodo off the ground and slam him against a wall.

"Frodo!" Tauriel screamed. The world blurred, and her sword disappeared, her two daggers leaping into her hands as she raced towards the troll, one hand positioned to throw the blade. Beside her, the three hobbits, teeth bared in fury, leapt for the cave troll. Sam slashed at its knee, and its legs buckled. Merry and Pippin leapt at the creature, yelling battle cries.

Tauriel threw the dagger. In the same instant, there was a low hum as Legolas released an arrow. Together, the dagger and arrow hissed through the air, connecting solidly with their target. The dagger was buried, hilt deep, in the troll's forehead. Right beside it, the arrow quivered slightly.

The cave troll froze, wobbling, then fell to the ground.

Tauriel spun, rushing towards Frodo. The Fellowship gathered around his slumped body, and Tauriel's mind was screaming.

Frodo inhaled, his breath rattling in his throat. He coughed, and as one they released a sigh of relief.

"He's alive!" Sam said with relief.

"I'm alright," Frodo rasped. "I'm not hurt."

"You should be dead!" Aragorn exclaimed. "That spear would have skewered a wild boar!"

Gandalf smiled, stepping back from Frodo and leaning on his staff. "I think there's more to this hobbit than meets the eye," he said.

Frodo hesitated, then lightly pulled his shirt open. Silver steel glinted, and Tauriel gasped. _Mithril_ , she thought.

"Mithril!" Gimli said in surprise, echoing her thoughts. "You are full of surprises, Master Baggins."

Drums rolled again, and Tauriel stepped away, wrenching the dagger out of the troll's head. Once again, she was in control of herself.

"To the bridge of Khazad-dum!" Gandalf bellowed.

They ran, and the world faded. Tauriel knew that her feet and legs were moving, that her bow was swinging in one hand, that behind her was another battle, but somehow none of it mattered. Her mind was numb, empty.

"This way!" Mithrandir called.

They were racing towards a far-away door. All around them, there were soft scuttling noises as goblins appeared, climbing down the stone pillars. Tauriel's stomach clenched as she prepared for a battle that they would surely loose.

Abruptly, a ground-shaking roar filled the air. Heat swept over Tauriel.

 _Fire_ , she thought. Her hands were shaking again.

"What is this new devilry?" Boromir muttered.

Tauriel closed her eyes. Fire bloomed behind closed lids, surrounding shadow. The shadow stepped forward.

She forced herself to open her eyes, somehow already knowing what she would see.

Shadow and flame.

"A Balrog," Gandalf murmured. "A demon of the ancient world. This foe is beyond any of you!" he cried. "Run! Quickly!"

She was frozen in place. She could not move. Frodo grabbed her arm, and she was shaken from her stupor.

"Thank you, _mellonamin_ ," she gasped, forcing her legs to move. Glancing behind her, she saw a massive ball of fire rise from a chasm. Flames licked the ground around it. A whip flicked and snapped in its hand.

Aragorn was leading them to the top of a dizzying stairway, Gandalf following him. Aragorn glanced at the wizard, obviously concerned.

"Lead them on, Aragorn," Mithrandir said heavily. "The bridge is near."

Aragorn hesitated.

"Do as I say!" Gandalf thundered. "Swords are no more use here!"

Tauriel moved quickly forward, her booted feet finding slick stone. There was a narrow path, broken and cracked.

Gandalf said something, his words escaping her.

Tauriel jumped lightly across the gap, spinning to face the members of the Fellowship not yet across.

"Nobody tosses a dwarf!" Gimli growled furiously.

She turned away.

The floor was split, the holes spitting sparks. The air was sweltering. Once again, bits and pieces of her surroundings were disappearing, fading away into silence.

"Over the bridge! Fly!"

The bridge was thin and frail, with no railing to speak of. She shivered as she peered down into the darkness.

She leaped forward to temporary safety, reaching for Frodo and Merry. Her gaze moved to Gandalf, and horror filled her.

Gandalf stood on the bridge, facing the Balrog with his staff in hand.

"No," Tauriel rasped. "No!" Frodo followed her gaze, his skin turning paper-white.

"You cannot pass!" Gandalf cried. "I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the Flame of Anor. The dark fire will not avail you, Flame of Udun!"

Tauriel felt Frodo sag against her as the Balrog spread its wings. Flames roared as it placed one foot on the bridge.

"Go back to the shadow!" he bellowed.

It slashed at him, and he blocked with his sword. The Balrog's sword shattered.

" _You shall not pass!"_ Gandalf thundered.

Out of the corner of her eye, Tauriel saw Aragorn and Boromir rush forward, their swords drawn as Gandalf's staff slammed down into the bridge. A blinding sheet of white flame shot outward as his staff shattered. Beneath the Balrog's feat, the stone fell away.

The beast hung in mid-air for a split second, then plummeted downward.

Fire bloomed before her eyes. The snap of a whip filled her ears, and heat washed over her skin. She could see Mithrandir falling . . . falling . . .

"No!" she screamed, throwing herself forward. Aragorn caught her arm, wrenching her back. Mindlessly, she tore at his hands, desperately trying to get to the bridge.

Gandalf turned.

The whip cracked loudly into the silence.

It curled around his legs, jerking him over the edge. His fingers curled desperately around the harsh stone, scrabbling for a hand-hold. Tauriel fell to her knees, crying out.

"Gandalf!" Frodo screamed.

He pushed himself upwards, and for a second she thought he would prevail.

"Fly, you fools!" he growled. Blood blossomed on his hands, staining the stone red. He faltered.

And then he fell.

* * *

The sun was bright against her eyes, the air warm, the earth still beneath her feet.

 _This cannot be real_ , she thought. _I pray it is not_.

Tauriel rubbed violently at her eyes, swiping at the salty tears sliding down her cheeks.

She forced her eyes open, her chest throbbing painfully.

"I did not like him," she whispered to herself. "I did not even pretend to like him. And yet, now that he is gone, I miss him terribly." She swallowed convulsively, her hands going automatically to her weapons.

She turned. Frodo lay on the ground, his eyes blank. Merry and Pippin wept quietly, and Sam was horrifyingly still.

In a split second, she knew what she had to do. It was insensitive and even slightly cruel, but it was their only option. When Kili had died, when she had been banished, she had done her best to keep on living. She had trained, pushing herself harder than ever before, and she had promised herself that she would never let herself love anyone or anything again.

Love was too painful.

She shook herself, stepping closer to the group.

"Legolas," she called urgently, "get them up!"

"Give them a moment, for pity's sake!" Boromir pleaded.

Aragorn shook his head, obviously agreeing with her. "Nay, Boromir. By nightfall these hills will be swarming with orcs. We must reach the woods of Lothlorien. Come, Boromir, Seena, Legolas, Gimli, get them up. On your feet, Sam," he said as he hauled the hobbit up.

"Frodo," Tauriel called.

Boromir glanced at Frodo, then back at her. Frodo was walking numbly away.

"Frodo?" Aragorn's voice was hoarse. "Frodo!"

Frodo swallowed hard, then turned towards them.

"We must go," he murmured. "It is what Gandalf wanted."

Tauriel hesitated, looking down at the Mines one last time. It was a place of nightmares, of death. It held unspeakable horrors. The air whispered tragic tales, and the stone spoke of great battles.

" _Namàrië, mellonamin_ ," she whispered.

* * *

 **If the Legolas POV scene was confusing, I apologize. That was a scene I added around a month ago, and since this chapter is virtually un-edited, I'm afraid it's a little jumbled.**

 **I will update as soon as possible.**

 **R &R, please!**


	8. The Golden Wood

**Chapter eight! I'm on the run yet again, so don't have time to respond to reviews, but thank you to those who reviewed, followed, and faved! Love y'all!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

The light was fading fast, and the hobbits' slow pace was beginning to deteriorate even more. Tauriel yearned to rush ahead, to walk amongst the trees of Lothlorien and see if they whispered secrets. She knew that the leaves were of pure gold and that the trunks were strands of silver, but beyond that there was little else she was sure of. She had never met the Lady of the Wood, but had heard vague whispers. Not all were singing her praise.

Neatly side-stepping Merry as he stumbled and nearly fell flat on his face, she approached Aragorn. He looked at her, a question in his dark eyes.

"I ask it of you that you let me go ahead," she murmured.

His eyebrows shot up. "You are familiar with Lothlorien?"

Tauriel hesitated, debating on whether she should lie or not. "Nay," she finally said. "I am not."

Aragorn's eyes sharpened, focusing on the vague outlines of trees far ahead. She held her breath. The trees were calling her, tugging at her heart. She would not wait any longer, and yet at the same time did not wish to defy Aragorn's wishes.

He studied her for a moment, then nodded tersely. "Very well. I assume you will join us before we approach the Lady Galadriel?"

"Aye. I thank you."

He nodded again, clearly dismissing her from his thoughts. Tauriel turned, inhaling deeply, filling her lungs with the clean, cool air of that smelt of the woods before her.

Stretching her legs, she began to run.

Though she could not hear them, the trees were whispering to each other.

 _She is coming_ , they said. _The one so very similar to the cloaked one who stole so many secrets. The Lady will wish to know of this._

 _What shall we do?_ one asked frantically.

 _Fear not,_ another promised. _We will be safe from her. She has nothing but curiosity in her heart for us._

 _Good,_ they murmured.

* * *

Slipping between massive tree-trunks, Tauriel felt her body and mind relaxing. For the first time in many years, she felt at peace. The trees groaned in the gentle wind, leaves fluttering down around her.

She hesitated. Slowly, very slowly, she stretched her hand out and placed it on a trunk.

 _Gi suilon_ , she murmured mentally.

Only silence greeted her. And yet . . . A small piece of her mind had shifted, opening and changing just as it had so long ago in the Greenwood. Deep down inside, she knew that the trees had heard her.

Jerking her hand away as if it had been burned, Tauriel tried to calm her racing heart. She knew that, at times, the trees could sift through her own thoughts. She had no wish to open up her emotions and opinions to these strange, majestic trees.

 _Namàrië_ , she thought, the word directed towards the trees who were remaining so stubbornly silent.

Stepping away from the trunk, she turned, preparing to make her way back towards the Fellowship.

 _I greet you, Daughter of the Forest._ The words were spoken in her mind, and yet as clear as they would have been had someone been standing beside her. Tauriel lurched at the force of them, her hands flying to her head. It was a completely foreign sensation. _You have come far._

Gasping, she peeled away the thin barrier preventing her from speaking back.

 _Who are you?_

An image flooded over her, sharply defined and yet slightly blurry. Blue eyes, finely arched brows and fair skin. Her heart told her that this – this was the Lady of Light.

The lady blinked. _Goheno nin, mellonamin. I am the Lady of the Golden Wood, though the title may be foreign to you. Your presence here is unforeseen._

 _I beg your pardon,_ Tauriel whispered.

Somehow, clear blue eyes met her own. _You bring doom down upon us, just as your mother before you. And yet, your future is no longer set in stone as it was but months ago._ Lady Galadriel paused, falling silent for a long moment. _Do not fight them. They will not harm you, nor your companions._

The image faded, leaving Tauriel short of breath. She blinked, and an arrow-head came into focus directly in front of her nose. The elf holding the bow was tall and ashen-haired, his face unfamiliar. A gasp caught and died in her throat as Lady Galadriel's meaning became clear. Touching a hand to her chest, she dipped her head.

"Forgive me," she said quietly. "I know not who you are."

Another elf stepped forward. He, too, was fair, and his face was noble. " _Mae l'ovannen, Tauriel. I eneth nîn Haldir._ " He politely inclined his head in greeting.

A frown furrowed her brow. His name was vaguely familiar., and she remembered that he was Captain of the Golden Guard. "How do you know me?" she murmured.

"The Lady of the Wood knows much. Occasionally, she consents to share information with others." Haldir turned to the elf holding the bow. "Lower your weapon." The elf willingly complied, the bowstring whispering slightly as he slid the arrow off and replaced it in his quiver.

Stepping away from her, Haldir gestured for her to follow him. Still frowning, Tauriel did so.

"Where are we going?" she demanded. His silence was beginning to irritate her, despite the fact that, with a gesture, he could order her dead.

"You will see. It seems your companions are significantly less silent than you were. We had no small difficulty locating you; the dwarf has been nearly shouting across the woodland ever since he entered it." His lip curled slightly.

Wishing she had her cloak, Tauriel fell into step behind Haldir. He walked with a cat-like grace, his booted feet making no sound as they lightly touched down on the forest floor.

"Stay close, young hobbits!" It was Gimli. "They say a great sorceress lives in these woods. An elf-witch of terrible power. All who look upon her fall under her spell - "

Stepping closer, Tauriel pressed her body tightly against the trunk of a tree.

" – and are never seen again!"

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam murmured.

Gimli hefted his ax. "Well, here's _one_ dwarf she won't ensnare so easily! I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox."

Haldir signaled with his right hand. As one the small group of elves stepped forward, arrows nocked and at full draw. Bowstrings creaked loudly in the instantaneous silence. Tauriel moved forward with Haldir, her face impassive.

"The dwarf breathes so loudly we could have shot him in the dark," Haldir said with disgust. Tauriel remained silent, but the look Gimli sent her cut deep.

"Haldir of Lorien, we come here for your help," Aragorn murmured in Elvish. "We need your protection."

"Aragorn!" Gimli snarled. "These woods are perilous. We should go back."

Haldir turned to the dwarf, his eyes cold. "You have entered the realm of the Lady of the Wood. You cannot go back." Tauriel saw his eyes flick towards Frodo, then back to Gimli. "Come. She is waiting."

* * *

 _Timeless, ancient beauty._

Lady Galadriel's eyes met her own, and she was lost in pools of clear, soft blue. Golden hair fell in rippling waves to the Lady of Lorien's waist, and the cloth of her dress shown with an unnatural silver light.

Tauriel looked away, desperate to escape that all-knowing gaze. Her eyes fell and lingered on the other elf. His face was coldly beautiful, his hair almost silver. She looked away as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Nine there are, yet ten there were that set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak with him." His voice was solemn.

Lady Galadriel turned, her eyes meeting Tauriel's once more. "He has fallen into Shadow," the Lady of Lorien said softly. Her voice rose sharply. "The Quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all." She paused, a smile curving her lips, and Tauriel followed her gaze. Sam blinked nervously. "Yet hope remains while the company is true."

Tauriel looked away from Sam, glancing at her booted feet. The leather was caked in blood and gore. A single golden leaf was plastered onto one toe.

"Do not let your hearts be troubled," Galadriel said calmly. "Go now and rest, for you are weary with sorrow and much toil." Her voice faded slightly, blue eyes meeting green. "Tonight, you will sleep in peace."

 _Welcome, Daughter of the Forest._

Tauriel flinched.

Y _ou know much, and yet nothing. Cast it all away. Much will burden you in the coming days._

 _I am scared_ , Tauriel whispered in her mind.

 _You should be._

* * *

"A lament for Gandalf," Legolas said sadly, his silver tunic shining in the dim light. Sweet, pure voices echoed around them, rising and falling as both one and many.

"What do they say about him?" Merry asked.

Legolas hesitated. "I have not the heart to tell you. For me, the grief is still too near."

 _They sing of great battles and wondrous stories,_ Tauriel thought, her throat aching too much for speech. O _f love and grief and sacrifice. Of everything he was._ Turning, she saw Aragorn approaching Boromir.

"Take some rest," Aragorn murmured. "These borders are well protected."

There was no answer. Tauriel frowned, her sharp eyes catching glimpses of tears racing down Boromir's cheeks.

"I will find no rest here," Boromir said roughly. "I . . . heard her voice – inside my head. She spoke of my father and the fall of Gondor, and she said to me, 'Even now, there is hope left.' But I cannot see it." His voice broke. "It has been so long since we had any hope. My father is a noble man. But his rule is failing, and our people lose faith. He looks to me to set things right. And I would do it! I _would_ see the glory of Gondor restored. Have you ever seen it, Aragorn? The White Tower of Ecthelion, glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver; its banners caught high in the breeze? Have you ever been called home by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?"

"I have seen the White City," Aragorn said softly. "Long ago."

"One day our paths will lead us there," Boromir declared. "And the tower guards shall take up the call - the Lords of Gondor have returned!"

Aragorn said nothing, but as Boromir looked away Tauriel saw his face crumble, falling into deep lines of despair.

Tauriel watched in silence for many hours, sleep finally overtaking her. Echoes of the elves' songs danced in her dreams, ethereal music that drew her in, capturing and binding her. But slowly, the silvery sounds faded into screams.

They always, _always_ did.

* * *

Tauriel awoke with a gasp, shooting upright, her hair pooling around her elbows. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest. It was still dark, and beams of moonlight spotted the floor, providing a small amount of light. Around her golden leaves fell softly.

Something crunched nearby.

She leaped to her feet, hands on her weapons. Eyes roving the shadows, she was surprised to see Frodo slipping quietly away. She hesitated, then followed. Harmless the woods might be, but she was not willing to risk the Ring Bearer's safety, perhaps even his life.

Slipping after Frodo, Tauriel glanced back once. All was still and silent.

Frodo walked slowly down the harsh stone steps, his bare feet slipping slightly on the rock. The Lady of Lorien turned towards him, a silver pitcher suddenly in her hands.

"Will you look into the mirror?" Lady Galadriel inquired quietly. Frodo stared at the basin with a hint of fear.

"What will I see?" he asked warily.

Slowly, Lady Galadriel poured the water into the basin. Tauriel watched as the clear stream fell, rippling slightly as it hit the bottom of the basin.

"Even the wisest cannot tell," Lady Galadriel murmured. "For the mirror shows many things. Things that are . . . things that were. And somethings that have not yet come to pass."

Slowly, Frodo stepped forward. Tauriel saw him lean towards the pedestal, his face pale. Seconds passed in silence as he peered into the basin.

"Gandalf!" Frodo gasped suddenly, and she jumped. More time passed, and the silence became heavy. Lady Galadriel stood aloofly to one side, her face unreadable. Frodo cried out abruptly, his voice cracking with the strain. His face was lit with flickering orange fire, and the Ring dangled from his neck. Tauriel was frozen, unable to move, her eyes fixed firmly on the Ring.

Crying out, Frodo heaved himself away from the pedestal on which the basin lay. He fell to the ground, chest heaving.

And still Galadriel stood there, as cold and impartial as a marble statue.

"I know what it is you saw," she said softly, "for it is also in my mind. It is the future, Frodo. It is what will come to pass should you fail."

Tauriel closed her eyes, burning with an intense desire to know what Frodo had seen.

"The Fellowship is breaking," Lady Galadriel continued. "It has already begun. He will try to take the Ring. _You know of whom I speak_." Her voice was chilling. "One by one, it will destroy them all."

Tauriel swallowed hard, her eyes stinging.

 _One by one._

She looked at Frodo, looked at his ashen face. She sensed that words were passing between them, and was proven correct as Galadriel stepped forward, one slender hand outstretched.

"You offer it to me freely," the Lady of Lorien murmured. Her hand was trembling violently. "I do not deny that my heart has greatly desired this."

Tauriel was once again frozen in time, watching helplessly, her mind screaming warnings. All reason had shattered and fallen to the ground in ashes. The air chilled, and Lady Galadriel rose up, her face terrifyingly striking, her dress turned to dusky tatters.

" _Instead of a Dark Lord you would have a Queen_ ," she thundered, the image and sound reaching Tauriel both through her eyes and mind. " _Not dark, but beautiful and terrible as the dawn, treacherous as the sea, stronger than the foundations of the earth._ " Her voice was echoing, stretching for many miles, shaking the ground with its force. " _All shall love me and despair._ " Frodo stepped back in horror, clutching the Ring in his hand, and suddenly Tauriel could move. Lady Galadriel changed and shifted, her dress once more pure white. The terrible beauty faded, leaving her face pale and shaken. She laughed softly, the sound heartrendingly sad.

"I pass the test," she said. "I will diminish and go into the West, and remain Galadriel."

Frodo's face shattered. "I cannot do this alone," he whispered.

"You are the Ring-Bearer, Frodo," Lady Galadriel said softly. "To bear a Ring of Power is to be alone." Tauriel wondered if she spoke from experience. "This task was appointed to you, and if you do not find a way, no one will."

"Then I know what I must do," Frodo said, his voice gaining strength. "It is just . . . I'm afraid to do it."

Lady Galadriel knelt, a smile curving her lips. "Even the smallest person can change the course of the future."

Frodo's fingers curled firmly over the Ring, his face set in determination. "I know," he whispered.

 _I know,_ Tauriel thought. _Oh, how I know._

* * *

 **Hope y'all enjoyed it! Updates will probably be coming slightly further apart for a while; I'm absolutely swamped with work right now.**

 **Reviews are love! :)**


	9. Free Fall

**Thank y'all so much for your amazing support! Seriously, love y'all. I know that it has been almost two weeks since I updated ( _sigh_ , I hate it as much as you do), but I promise I'm doing my best. **

**Responses to reviews . . .**

 **Mndbndr, I wish I could answer this without giving anything away! :( Glad you enjoyed it.**  
 **crispybacon, here ya go! ;)**  
 **Ruthaer, thank you! I am so glad you enjoyed it.**  
 **guest, I agree. She was always one of my favorite characters. I personally feel like I didn't do her character justice, though, so my apologies.**  
 **ElvesRule, thank you so much for the well-wishes! I really appreciate it. My life has been insane lately, but hopefully I will have more time for writing soon.**  
 **Warriorheart, yes, Legolas has been very quiet - or absent, which might be my fault, haha! Don't worry, though, next chapter will contain some nice Legolas/Tauriel interaction.**  
 **sweetmochi, yup, the trees are talking once more! As for Haldir, yes, that would have been a disaster, haha!**

 **This chapter is a little shorter than I would like, and is kinda-almost-maybe a filler chapter, but there are some very important details in here. Pay attention. ;)**

 **Thanks again, y'all! Enjoy!**

* * *

Tauriel stared down at the two hobbits, brows drawn together in a frown.

"I beg your pardon?" she said, confused.

Merry fiddled with the leaf on his cloak. "Can you teach us how to fight?" he mumbled, eyes cast downward.

She forced down laughter, not at his request but at the mortified look on his face. "Why do you wish to learn?"

Pippin spoke up. "No one else has time to teach us. We've asked. We're getting tired of having other people protect us, too. " He paused. "And Merry thinks you're pretty," he added confidentially.

Merry's ears flushed scarlet as he elbowed Pippin hard. "Shut up."

A smile tilted the corners of her lips upward, threatening to turn into a grin. "And you don't?" she asked Pippin in jest.

He coughed, shuffling his feet. "I – that is – Um, yes?" He was clearly terrified of denying it, and embarrassed to admit the truth.

Laughter bubbled up from deep down inside. Tauriel knelt, placing her hands on their shoulders. "I would be honored to teach you," she said, her words still tainted with hints of amusement.

Merry sighed in relief as Pippin grinned broadly. "Thank you!" he exclaimed, then hesitated. "Can we start now?"

Tauriel stood, straightening to he r full height. "Ask Sam and Frodo if they are coming. " She paused, thinking. "And fetch Aragorn and Boromir. We are all long due for a lesson or practice session."

Pippin nodded, then raced off, Merry trailing behind him.

Tauriel sighed, exhaustion flooding over her. She could not bring herself to sleep. Not here, amongst this woodland that brought back so many memories, both bad and good. She had snatched but a few hours of rest in the five days since they had arrived in Lothlórien, her dreams filled with warm welcomes and bitter rejections alike.

* * *

 _"Don't go." His hands grasped hers firmly, callouses scraping at her skin._

 _Tears pooled in her eyes, spilling over in seconds. "But I have to. " She wrenched her hand away. "I'm sorry."_

 _She ran, and the image shifted._

 _The woods were dark, the air heavy. She fell against the tree trunk, gasping, her body numb. Rubbing a trembling hand across her face, she froze._

 _Rusty-red. Salty, acidic._

 _Shaking, she lowered her hands, already knowing what she would see._

 _The white skin on her wrists was torn, ripped apart. Blood seeped from underneath the half-formed scabs, trickling down her arms. The world faded around her, black and white spots dancing merrily in front of her eyes._

Don't go _, she cried to herself._

But I have to, _her mind whispered back._ I'm sorry.

* * *

Tauriel pulled herself out of the dream, chest heaving, fingers spasmodically clenching the opposite wrists. Leaning her head on a tree-trunk, she forced her breathing to slow.

"You are all right," she murmured. "You will be fine. You are fine," she amended. Slowly, she calmed.

Pushing herself upright, she looked at the trees. Her fingertips brushing over the rough bark, she wandered for several minutes.

 _You are so quiet_ , she murmured impulsively.

To her shock, something shifted in her mind. _We were fearful of your intentions._

 _I mean you no harm_ , she assured them.

They chuckled gratingly. _We know._

She hesitated. _Why did you fear me?_

There was silence for several long seconds. _We dealt with one very similar to you before. The experience was not pleasant._

 _Who?_ she asked.

 _That is none of your concern. The Lady of Lórien does not wish you to learn this small but vital piece of information. Not yet, at least. Suffice it to say you are startlingly similar._

Words tumbled into her mind, snatched out of the past. _You are indeed much like her._ The Elvenking. _It is true, what they say. You are much like your mother._ Adreh. _You both shine bright in the gathering storm._ Enaril.

"My mother," she blurted both vocally and mentally. _You knew my mother!_

Dead silence, broken only by the whisper of wind.

 _Aye_ , they finally said.

Her breathing began to quicken. W _hat was she like? What did she say? When did you speak to her? Please, I beg you, enlighten me!_

 _Enough!_ the trees thundered. The air seemed to vibrate slightly with the force of it, and Tauriel winced. Her head began to throb. _We will speak no more unless the Lady gives us leave to do so. I ask it of you that, unlike your mother, you leave us be._

She shivered, chills racing up and down her spine. _I beg your pardon_ , she said formally. _I bid you farewell._

Her mind closed down, the small open space collapsing and disappearing. Tauriel closed her eyes, inhaling deeply.

"Seena!" someone called behind her. She recognized the voice as Pippin's.

She turned, her heart heavy. "Aye?"

Pippin skittered forward, almost slipping on the thick layer of leaves surrounding her. Surprised, Tauriel realized that she was covered in golden leaves. The trees had evidently dropped some of their leaves during or after their mental contact.

Brushing a particularly large leaf from her shoulder, she slid a hand briefly over her hair. Several more leaves fluttered to the ground.

Pippin stared at her curiously. "What's wrong with your hair?"

Her stomach clenched in panic. Flinging her hair over her shoulder, she was horrified to see the ends turning rusty-red, the ashen shade slowly disappearing as the glamour weakened.

Gasping, she forced the glamour to fold around her once more. Relieved, she watched as the bright color disappeared abruptly.

Flicking the long waves back, she turned towards Pippin. "What is wrong with my hair?"

He looked at her oddly, but wisely dropped the subject. "She's looking for you." His head half-turned as he looked behind him.

Tauriel's eyes flicked behind him. A small, slim elven lady stood, her hands folded neatly before her as she waited.

 _"Goheno nin,_ " the elf said sweetly. _"Ci maer?"_

 _"Ma,"_ Tauriel said, her tone even. _"Gi hannon."_

The elf placed a hand over her heart, ducking her head slightly. " _Mae g'ovannen, mellonamin. I eneth nîn Aneana."_

Pippin edged towards Tauriel. "What is she saying?" he hissed, trying to be inconspicuous and failing miserably.

Tauriel's lips twitched. "She is greeting me," she murmured to Pippin. Raising her voice, she added, "Greetings, Aneana. I am Seena." She spoke in the common tongue, trying to ease Pippin's discomfort. He looked immensely grateful.

Aneana inclined her head once more, soft brown hair tumbling around her shoulders. "Well met," she said, following Tauriel's example. "I have been wondering who you are, and have looked for a chance to meet."

Tauriel's eyes slid over Aneana. The elleth's hair was straight and fine, falling to her waist, while small, intricate braids swept from her crown to the base of her neck. Her face was pale and smooth, shaped like a moon. Her eyes were a strange shade somewhere in between brown and blue, large and upward-tilting. While her nose and lips were slightly too small for true beauty, there was an undeniable sweetness to her face and person. She was clearly elvish, and yet her name was not.

There was something else, too. Something Tauriel could not place. A . . . _familiarity_ , strange though it sounded.

"Come," Aneana said, beckoning slightly. "I have much I wish to tell you."

Tauriel hesistated, glancing back at Pippin. He nodded, although his face was slightly downcast.

She turned, then followed Aneana.

* * *

 _They say that killing scars you. That once you have blood on your hands, you cannot wash it off, no matter how hard you try._

Arwen frowned, brushing at the ink-stained pages.

 _I cannot say that I feel the same. Indeed, I_ enjoy _it. The hiss and hum of a bow and arrow; the silver song of a sword as it cuts through the air. I killed many today, and I felt nothing but joy, or something very like it. I do not know if I should be worried._

 _My brother says that he fears for me. I push aside his arguments as a horse pushes aside a clump of dead grass. He is always worrying. Fretting over the wine for the feasts he has been organizing. Pacing over the Orcs pushing at our borders. Frantically working his way through the armies he is trying to prepare._

 _His forehead has deep creases. I feel slight remorse, for surely some of those lines were caused, in part, by me._

 _In time, I will join him in battle. He protests that I am too young – a purely false claim, I am younger than him by mere minutes – and that I am immature. Perhaps he is correct on the latter, but I am loath to admit it to his face. His head is swollen enough._

 _"Seena," he brags, "I have correctly predicted the outcome of a duel!"_

 _He is quite proud of his visions, or, at least, once was. I have not heard him speak of it in many moons. I clearly did not receive his gift of foresight. I rarely have any clarity on the future, only large blurs._

 _I just discovered that my nails are rimmed in red. I have been cutting into my own palms with the force of my grasp when I hold a sword. And they wonder why I am not fond of it!_

 _Dried blood has a . . . interesting smell. Rather tangy, with a hint of earth._

 _My brother is calling. I must dress for supper and go down to greet the higher-ranking elves in my brother's army. It is of little interest for me. When I fight,_ no one _will command_ me.

Arwen flipped the page over, eyes searching the page for words. There was nothing. She frowned, turning the leaves faster.

There. Dated years after the previous entry, the writing was off-kilter, speckled with ink and – blood?

 _I am fearful. There is something in my mind, eating away at all reason._ What if he was right? _What if . . ._

* * *

"You originally came from the Greenwood, did you not?" Aneana asked.

Tauriel nodded jerkily. "Aye. It is now known as Mirkwood, though. The forest has become diseased and dark."

"Forgive me. I knew not."

They continued in silence for several minutes, the gentle wind rippling their hair. Finally, Tauriel spoke.

"What of you? Where do you hail from?" The words came out as more of a demand than she had wished.

Aneana tilted her head to one side, her expression mildly reproachful. "I have no true home. I am unaware of where I was born, or who took me in. My earliest memories are of Rivendell, and later, the Greenwood. I have also spent many moons in the Golden Wood, although I have always had a closer connection with the Greenwood."

Tauriel was silent for several seconds, contemplating the pieces of information and filing them away. "You met the Elvenking?"

Aneana's smile crumbled. "Aye," she said softly. "I did." She swallowed. "We were . . . We are not the best of . . . friends." Her tone was final, leaving no room for more questions.

Tauriel nodded blankly.

"Seena," Aneana said firmly, "you clearly have your secrets. I have my own. Perhaps we should reach an agreement that we will not pressure each other for information, innocent or not."

Tauriel hesitated. "Very well," she finally said, albeit reluctantly. "What shall we speak of?"

Aneana laughed. "I was not suggesting we speak." She drew a long, slim sword from its sheath. "I do, however, wish to fight. I have little competition here in the Golden Wood. I have heard tell that you are an excellent fighter, and wish to test your abilities." She arched a brow in question.

A chuckle escaped Tauriel's mouth. "Aye. I will duel you."

Blue-brown eyes met clear green, as sword met sword, and they were both laughing, and the world faded away. Their swords rang with silver music; the leaves on the trees shook with the force of their blows.

Eventually, they both dropped to the ground, breathless. Neither one was sure if they had won, and both yielded to the other.

Tauriel turned her head, golden leaves crumpling underneath her weight. Aneana gasped out a laugh, chest heaving. Her laughter was contagious, and soon they were both convulsing with mirth.

With a start, Tauriel realized that, for one of the first times in years, she had made a friend. Hating the fact that she was hiding herself from Aneana, she sobered slightly. She pushed the thought away, shaking herself, letting her body and mind free-fall.

* * *

 **So, what did y'all think? There will be some Thranduil scenes coming up in the next five or six chapters, although they are still in the process of editing. The same goes for Audriel, Lady Galadriel, Legolas, and Lord Elrond, haha! An update will come within two weeks.**

 **One more chapter in the Golden Wood!**

 **As always, reviews are love. ;)**

 _*Edit - thank you so much, AS, for pointing out my mistake! In the dialoug between Aneana and Tauriel/Seena, she introduces herself as Seena, *not* Tauriel._


	10. Dewdrop

_*** This chapter was originally published incomplete, and with some serious grammar and plot mess-ups. It was pulled down for several days while I finished editing it.**_

 **Got this finished slightly sooner than I expected. :D Thanks so much for all the support, y'all!**

 **hobbitJunki and warriorheart, yup, and this friend is actually a very important part of the plot line. We won't see her again for a long time, though.**  
 **Guest, here ya go. ;)**  
 **Hunter'smoon and Tk0vrDawn, thank you!**

 **Again, some very important information in here. I apologize in advance for the big blocks of text. I am sure there are a few plot-holes I will come back and fix later on, but for now, enjoy!**

* * *

 _Golden eyes. Small, deep-set under heavy brows. They followed her, glistening with malice._

 _"They were elves, once," she heard herself saying. "Taken by the Dark Powers. Tortured and mutilated, a ruined and terrible form of life." She paused. "And now – perfected. My fighting Uruk-Hai," she said, almost fondly. Her tone changed abruptly. " Whom do you serve?" she thundered._

 _The thing spoke, his voice a guttural rasp. "Saruman."_

* * *

"Seena?" Someone was shaking her shoulder gently. The heavy stupor fled slightly, and she opened her mouth to try and speak. Her eyes were open. She blinked.

"What?" she rasped. Her vision began to clear slightly, Sam's face swimming slightly before her eyes. She blinked again, noticing the harsh texture of the bark against her back.

Sam crouched beside her, his face anxious. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, arching her back upward. It popped violently, and she winced. "I am sorry. I must have fallen asleep." Her eyes flicked around the vicinity, noting the absence of the others. Absently, she wondered where they were.

He nodded vigorously. "You were talking. Your eyes were wide open, as well. I did not know what to do."

She forced a smile, vehemently hoping she had not said anything of importance. "I am fine. I thank you for your concern." She stood, checking her glamour and weapons.

Sam stood, shifting from one foot to the other. "I wanted to talk to you," he blurted.

She turned back to him. "Aye?"

His eyes dropped from hers, roving along the ground. "When I first met you . . ." He paused, coughing. "You scared me. You still do, in a way. Aragorn says we can trust you, as do Boromir and Gimli. Even Mr. Frodo likes you. But – "

"Go on," Tauriel said gently, keenly aware that Legolas's name had not been mentioned.

He inhaled deeply. "You looked different, that time. You had red hair, and your face was different." He grasped for words. "I – I don't know how to explain it. Even now, sometimes you will turn, and your face will shift. I have seen it many times now."

She was silent for several moments. "You are perceptive," she said slowly. "And perhaps it will do us both some good to do away with the lies between us. Come, _mellon_. Sit with me."

Sam hesitated for a moment, then did so. "What do you wish to tell me?" he murmured.

"The truth, though in its own way it is worse than the lie."

His face clouded, and for an instant she wondered if he did not wish to know. "Very well."

She sighed regretfully. "It started many years ago in the realm of the Elvenking. I was a member of the Woodland Guard, tasked with protecting it. Legolas was also a participant, prince though he was. Slowly, I began to discover certain things that made me question not only who I was but where my loyalty should be placed. I spent many seasons searching for truths instead of the lies I so often encountered."

Sam looked at her with interest. "Did you find it?"

The corners of her mouth tightened. "Nay. I believed I had, for a time, but now I am not so sure. As of now, it is futile and distracting. " She forced her face to relax. "Thranduil – the Elvenking – played a part in the deception, although he truly believed it to be necessary. At the time, he was trying to protect me, looking upon me as he might a daughter. I defied him many times; and yet he always let me come back. Slowly, I fell away from him. In the process, I became . . . friends with his son – Legolas. In time, Thranduil saw fit to promote me. I became Captain, not only the youngest Captain in centuries, but one of only three females ever. For a time, I willingly followed the Elvenking's orders and requests. The Greenwood became dark and diseased, infected by spiders. The woodland was sick. Previously, I had had a connection to the trees, an ability that I inherited from my mother. That link had disappeared."

"How did you talk to the trees?" Sam broke in.

"The previous Elvenking, Oropher, had paid little mind to the woodland. My mother, who was at the time a friend of Thranduil's, began to develop an unforeseen connection to the Greenwood. The trees chose her over Oropher. Thranduil discovered her connection and unintentionally insulted my mother. She left, and her heart turned black against those who had once welcomed her. Even now, the Elvenking has no sway over the forest. Perhaps the connection has been forever broken with his line, though the trees speak to me no more than they do him." She glanced at Sam. "I stray from the point. Forgive me."

"`Tis no worry," Sam murmured, entranced.

"After some time, there were intruders to the forest. Dwarves, and they are often reviled by our kind. I saved one of them, and he had a . . . fascination with me. Long maddened with the Elvenking and worried about the woodland, I was lost in my own mind, and listened to him. I found that he was similar to me in ways I had not previously comprehended. I was drawn to him, or perhaps I just yearned for freedom. Thranduil had begun to worry that Legolas thought of me as more than a mere friend."

She stopped, her heart aching slightly. _He did,_ she thought _. I know that now_. She shook herself, clearing her mind.

"The dwarves escaped, and I followed them, fully intending to do my duty. There were Orcs waiting for them, and there was a skirmish. The dwarf I had spoken to was injured. They escaped, and I captured an Orc. Thranduil, Legolas, and I questioned him, and he spoke of things I had had little knowledge of before. Things that I knew I had to prevent. And so I left, my intent being to find the dwarves and help them, setting things right and making sure our land was safe. Legolas followed me," she said softly.

"Why?" Sam whispered.

"He feared for me. He wanted me to come back with him and apologize to his father. I could not," she said, her voice shaking.

Sam placed a hand on her arm. "I'm sorry," he said.

She chuckled, almost scornfully. "It was all my doing. I earn no sympathy." She continued. "When I refused, Legolas continued to follow me. I consented, and we found the dwarves, battling the Orcs once more. I found that the dwarf was gravely injured."

"What was his name?"

Her throat burned, but she forced the word out. "Kili. I healed him the best I could, and was unable to continue onwards with Legolas. He was greatly angered by what he saw as my betrayal, and perhaps he was right. A dragon attacked the town in which they hid, and we were forced to flee. Later on, Kili and I parted ways. He gave me a stone, telling me to keep it 'as a promise.' Legolas found me once more, and I discovered that I was banished."

"Why?" Sam asked.

"I directly defied the Elvenking," Tauriel explained. "Legolas requested that I join him, and I consented. We discovered something that could change the course of what seemed to be a battle. We returned, and I confronted the Elvenking once more." Her eyes went dark. "Thranduil came very close to destroying me that day, and likely would have if Legolas had not prevented it, telling his father that to kill me, he would have to kill his son. There was indeed a battle. I almost died, and Kili saved me," she said, glossing over many other incidents and facts. "And - the one who had tried to kill me – killed him." Her eyes stung with hot tears, and her chest was tight. "Legolas could not stand to return to his home after I ran, and left. I know not where he went. Thranduil apologized, in his own way, and likely would have let me return with him. But I ran, caring nothing for those I left behind. I hated myself," she whispered. "I wanted to die. But I didn't. I came back, and now I am here, trying to heal myself, protect the Ring-Bearer, and make amends with those I once cared for."

Sam was silent for several long moments, digesting the information she had given him. "I am sorry," he said again, and his words were sincere.

She smiled, albeit weakly. "Thank you, _mellonamin_."

Sam faltered, and she raised an encouraging brow at him.

"What – what is your real name?" he asked weakly.

She hesitated. _I have already told him my story, and risked all. Why not tell him my name?_ "Tauriel," she finally whispered. "My name is – was Tauriel."

"What does it mean?"

"Daughter of the Forest," Tauriel said. And then, quieter, "Daughter of Mirkwood."

"Why do you no longer carry that name?" he wondered.

She was silent for several moments. "It was my birth name. It is somewhat . . . traditional. And I could no longer go by Tauriel amongst those who knew me." She paused. "May I drop my glamour?"

Sam gave her a bizarre look, but nodded.

Tauriel sighed with relief inwardly. Far from an expert in holding the glamour in the first place, the stress and strain made it even harder to hold it strong, and it drained her utterly. Color flooded her hair and face, her brows turning a shade lighter as her nose and lips changed.

Sam stared at her in something akin to awe, his mouth slack. "How do you do that?" he demanded.

The corners of her mouth turned up. "`Tis one of the few forms of magic I am able to implement. "

Sam nodded, his face set firmly in an expression of confusion.

Tauriel's ears picked up something. She turned her head, focusing as hard as she could on the faint sound.

Voices. Faint though they were, they were approaching at a comparatively rapid pace.

"Sam," Tauriel hissed, sliding the glamour back into place, "they do not know. None of them. Do you understand me? You cannot breathe a word of this to anyone. It will be our undoing."

Her words were harsh, and he recoiled slightly, but nodded.

She sighed with relief. "I am sorry," she said softly. "I had to be sure."

"It's all right," Sam said generously. "I understand."

They waited together, filling the silence with mindless words, plucked randomly from their mouths and scattered to the wind.

Someone entered the clearing behind them. Tauriel resisted the urge to turn around, every nerve on fire with the strain. "Seena." It was Legolas, and she turned to meet his gaze. His eyes were neither cold nor warm, and it bothered her that she was unable to read his expression.

Tauriel turned away, closing her eyes for a brief moment. Sam's eyes met hers, round and scared for her. "Go," he whispered. "I will stay silent, do not fear."

She forced a smile, patting his shoulder as she unfolded herself and stood. "Aye?" It was directed towards Legolas.

He remained impassive. "Come with me."

* * *

Haldir faced Lady Galadriel, his back ramrod straight. "My lady," he murmured.

She sighed softly, perhaps even absently. "What did you think of her?"

He frowned slightly. "Unique," he said shortly. "I cannot place her, even with her features unchanged. She does, of course, bear a resemblance to her mother, but she is also remarkably dissimilar."

She turned to him, her face remarkably serene despite the circumstances. "She can fight?"

The marchwarden nodded shortly. "She is exceptionally skilled, and not so much through incessant practice but because of a natural aptitude. I have rarely seen the like." His words were slightly troubled. "If she chose to turn against us, she could be exceedingly dangerous."

Galadriel sighed again, her blue eyes troubled. "I fear for her. She has much to overcome in the coming days. She will be pushed to her limits, and then some. She will either break or bend." Her eyes met Haldir's, and words echoed in his mind.

Haldir bowed. "As you wish, my lady."

* * *

Tauriel hesitantly followed Legolas, pacing herself several steps behind. She jumped and nearly cried out as he whirled on her. "What did the Lady of Lorien tell you?" he demanded.

She took another step backwards, exhaling shakily. "Nothing of importance," she said. "Why do you ask?"

He followed her, his shoulders set. His eyes were hard as stone. "Tell me," he demanded, "where is your birth-place?"

Tauriel felt herself stiffen, and quickly strengthened the glamour. "I know not," she said shortly. "I have few memories of my life before I arrived in the Greenwood."

His face did not change. "Do not lie to me," he said harshly, and Tauriel recoiled. Never before had she seen him like this, and it was disturbing.

"I – I am not lying, my lord," she murmured, unconsciously adding a title to the end of her sentence. "I truly do not know."

Something flickered in his grey eyes – regret? Anger? Some of the tension left him. "Very well," he said flatly. "Forgive me." The words were clearly a courtesy and nothing more.

Tauriel looked at him, searching for any hint to the source of his anger. "What is wrong?" she asked softly.

He frowned. "`Tis none of your concern."

Her eyes narrowed, and she drifted slightly closer. "But I, too, am a member of the Fellowship. It is my concern."

Annoyance flashed bright in his eyes, but quickly disappeared. "As you wish." His voice was acidic. "Let it suffice to say that you bear a disquieting resemblance to . . . someone I used to know. I wish to understand who you really are."

Hurt flashed across her face. "What do you wish to know?"

"Who you are and why you are here. It is clear that you are not unfamiliar with the Golden Wood."

Tauriel hesitated. "I cannot say," she said slowly. "At least, I cannot say what you wish to hear. I am unable to tell you my true reasons for being here."

"Why?" he demanded.

"It is a part of my past I have no wish to revisit," she whispered.

Legolas stepped away, all anger drained away. "I apologize. I have been – troubled of late." He inclined his head. "I will speak to you again later."

She closed her eyes, sagging against a tree. _I am sorry_ , she thought. _I truly am_.

* * *

It was dawn, and dew clung, jewel-like, to the blades of grass on which she stood. Her feet were booted, but even so they were becoming slightly chilled. The Lady of Light turned, her face perfectly calm. It was unsettling, in its own way.

"I can offer you nothing," she said softly and regretfully. "Nothing but words, weak though they may seem."

Tauriel waited in silence.

"Hope," Galadriel said clearly. "Cling to it in the coming darkness. Strength. It will protect you. Joy – for there will be very little of it." She paused, her eyes as deep as the sea. "And love, for though it has hurt you in the past, it may very well be your only shield against Shadow."

 _Farewell_ , Tauriel said, unable to speak, and even her mental voice shook with repressed emotions. _I thank you._

Blue eyes flashed bright in her mind, a smile curving full lips. _Farewell, Daughter of the Forest._

* * *

 **It might be a while before the next update. Real life is currently breathing down my neck. :/ Hope y'all enjoyed the tidbits of Legolas/Tauriel conversation (if you are up in arms about his attitude, trust me, there is a reason!).**

 **For those of you interested in reading more of my work while you're waiting for the next update, I published an angsty one-shot featuring Tauriel. It's essentially plot-less, but was fun to write.**

 **R &R, please!**


	11. Arrow

**Got this finished in time for Thanksgiving! :)**

 **guest, yes, it seems Sam is always the one they turn to.  
Warriorheart, I agree, she did deserve it! There will be some enlightenment on that particular subject in the next few chapters.  
SpectralWolf3344, wait and see. ;)  
annie, here ya go!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Tauriel sighed softly, letting one of her fingers dip into the water. The river Anduin was ice cold, and she immediately removed them, flicking small beads of water away. They sparkled like diamonds in the faint light of dawn.

She shivered, a chill racing down her spine.

 _Hope. Cling to it in the coming darkness._

Frodo turned to look at her, his face strained. She smiled at him, and it was not forced. His strength against Shadow gave her hope, small and fragile though it was.

 _Strength. It will shield you._

She glanced at Aragorn. Cords stood out on his neck as he dipped the paddle into the water, though the effort was small. There were glints of dread deep down in his eyes, and she wondered what the Lady of Lorien had told him. He surely was strong, to resist the Ring's pull. And yet . . . There was a shred of wariness towards him in her heart, though she wanted to destroy it. Although she had not spoken to him often, when she had he had been brutally honest and hopeful. Her heart was glad for him and Arwen.

 _Joy – for there will be very little of it._

Her eyes flicked to Merry and Pippin. They were doubled over laughing, their breath coming in short gasps. She frowned, listening for any hints of what had happened to make them laugh so.

"Did you see his _face_?" Pippin wheezed, clutching his stomach.

At the head of the boat, Gimli sat grimly, his shoulders hunched slightly forward. His back was soaked. He turned briefly towards the two hobbits, scowling at them, and the humor of the situation made her mouth twitch. Their presence in the Fellowship did indeed bring her joy. They were always cheerful, and something told her they were braver than she had given them credit for. It was so easy to dismiss their cheerful faces and clumsy attempts at fighting, and she vowed to herself that she would do so no longer.

 _And love, for though it has hurt you in the past, it may very well be your only shield against Shadow._

She forced herself to look at Legolas. He half-stood at the prow of the boat, his jaw tight. He had remained silent ever since she had joined them, and something told her that he was avoiding her.

Tauriel inhaled deeply, bracing herself. _"Legolas, mellonamin?"_

Legolas barely glanced at her _. "Man anírog?"_ The words were barely a question; his tone was harsh and unforgiving.

She paused, uncertainty flooding her. " _Ci maer?"_

A muscle twitched in his jaw. " _Man?"_

 _"Manen le?"_ she asked hesitantly, phrasing her words slightly differently.

 _"Im maer,"_ he snapped.

 _"Goheno nin,"_ Tauriel murmured. She fell silent, all conversation ceasing amongst her companions. Even Merry and Pippin appeared slightly disheartened. Merry's eyes were questioning, surely wondering why they were quarreling.

She closed her eyes against the pain.

* * *

 _Feet, stained with blood and gore. They pounded across the earth, covering ground with alarming speed._

 _A helmet clattered to the ground. Someone snarled viciously in a harsh, unforgiving language. A hand reached downward, veins standing out in the muddy skin. White paint coated one finger. A flash of small, bright golden eyes, and then everything went black_.

* * *

A flock of birds shot into the sky, wings flapping frantically. They screamed loudly to each other, their voices shrill and raspy, and the sound echoed through the gorge.

The boats drifted gently on the river, and the pace was excruciatingly slow. Tauriel's eyes flicked from the Gondorian statues to the river and back again, occasionally drifting towards Legolas or Boromir.

"Frodo," Aragorn said in an undertone.

Frodo looked up, his eyes widening as he took in the massive pillars of carved stone.

"The Argonath," Aragorn continued, almost to himself. "Long have I desired to look upon the kings of old. My kin."

Tauriel frowned, filing away the piece of information for later examination. Slowly, the current carried the boats between the great statues' feet, the water rippling softly as they went.

* * *

Tauriel jumped smoothly from the boat, her booted feet splashing through the shallow water as it lapped against the shore. Aragorn followed closely behind.

"We cross the lake at nightfall, hide the boats, and continue on foot," he said sharply. "We can approach Mordor from the north."

Gimli mumbled something into his beard, then raised his voice. "Oh, yes, just a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil, an impassible labyrinth of razor sharp rocks," he complained, "and after that it gets even better! A festering, stinking marshland, as far as the eye can see."

Aragorn turned to him, his face unyielding. "That is our road. I suggest you take some rest and recover your strength, Master Dwarf."

Gimli sputtered furiously. "Recover my strength!"

Legolas swung around to face them. "We should leave now," he said urgently. Silently, Tauriel agreed with him.

Aragorn shook his head. "No. Orcs patrol the eastern shore. We must wait for the cover of darkness."

"It is not the eastern shore that worries me," Tauriel said flatly, her eyes flicking towards the Parth Galen forest.

Aragorn looked at her sharply, surely wondering why she was taking Legolas's side. "We will wait for the cover of darkness," he repeated.

"A shadow has been growing in my mind," Legolas murmured, his words almost unintelligible. "Something draws near, I can feel it."

* * *

 _"No!" Frodo cried, lurching backwards._

 _Bormir approached him, a wild smile twisting his lips and a dangerous glint to his eyes. "Why do you recoil? I am no thief."_

 _"You are not yourself."_

 _"What chance do you think you have?" Boromir asked. "They will find you, they will take the Ring, and you will beg for death before they are through."_

* * *

Tauriel pulled herself away, doubling over, her stomach clenching violently. She retched into the back of her throat, acid spilling into her mouth. Wiping it with a shaking hand, she pushed herself upright. Legolas and Aragorn looked at her in concern.

"What is amiss?" Aragorn demanded.

Merry dumped a small pile of kindling at Gimli's feet. "Where's Frodo?"

Sam sat abruptly upright, and Aragorn's head snapped around.

"Gone," Tauriel rasped, pushing the words past her clenching throat. "He is gone, and Boromir with him."

They looked at her in horror, their faces tightening as they began to fully understand her words.

She closed her eyes, trying to push away the pain and the heat. "The Fellowship is breaking," she sang, her voice eerily sweet. "He will try and take the Ring. One by one, it will destroy us all . . . "

* * *

 _"You fool!" Boromir roared, veins bulging in his neck. "It is not yours save by unhappy chance. It might have been mine. It should be mine! Give it to me! Give me the Ring!" He exploded forward, his hands reaching, grasping for the small circle of gold that was slowly, so very slowly, destroying them all._

 _And then his hand changed. It changed and shifted, and suddenly his fingers were black and covered in metal, cracking and popping as they moved - the fingers of the Ringwraiths._

 _Frodo cried out, his eyes panicked, and suddenly the Ring was on his finger – and he was gone._

 _Boromir spun wildly in the leaf-litter, screaming mindlessly after him. "I see your mind! You will take the Ring to Sauron. You will betray us! You go to your death and the death of us all! Curse you," he cried, and he was almost weeping. "Curse you and your Halflings!" He fell, and when he rose again the mad glint to his eyes was gone._ "Frodo?" _he whispered. "Frodo! What have I done? Please, Frodo . . ._ "

* * *

Her eyes popped open, and suddenly the unquenchable flame was gone.

"Boromir," she gasped, struck with a terrible certainty that if she did not find him, this would be the last day he ever saw.

She glanced around, and she was alone. They had left her, and the thought made her furious. She ripped away her cloak, baring her large arsenal of weapons. Swinging another quiver of arrows around to the front, she nocked one on her bow, checking the bowstring for any signs of wear.

She hesitated, and then another three arrows jumped onto the taught cord. She turned and ran, her legs pumping furiously, pushing herself to her limits.

 _I have to find him_ , she thought, and immediately corrected herself. _I will, or I will die trying_.

She ran, racing time, leaping over fallen logs and tossing aside leafy branches. Her hair rippled out behind her in a silvery wave, tumbling down to her knees when she paused.

And then - finally, finally - she found him. Weeping, his face buried in his hand as salty tears streamed down his face.

"Boromir," she said softly, kneeling beside him.

He lifted his face from his hands. "I - I tried to take it," he rasped. "I tried to take the Ring from him - from Frodo."

She shifted slightly, leaning forward so they were but inches apart. "Listen to me," she hissed. "It was not your fault." Her eyes were burning with green fire.

He shook his head, refusing to meet her eyes. "It _was_ my doing."

She sat back. "It was not, and until you have accepted that fact you may as well be dead." He lifted his head slightly, and she pushed on. "Your heart will die. You will feel it wither, turning into ashes and burning until it is nothing."

"How do you know?" he demanded, but it was whispered.

"Because I, too, have felt Shadow's embrace. It pulls you in, whispers sickly sweet promises in your ear, but then it leaves you and, inside, you die."

He stood on shaky legs. "How can you ever face yourself?"

"You don't," Tauriel said. "You muddle along, and try and make amends as best you can. You fight, both for your sanity and for the ones you once betrayed or cared for. And maybe, one day, you make peace with who you are and what you have done." She rose, and though he was several inches taller than her she managed to gaze at him from an equal height.

His eyes closed for a moment. "I know not how I would make amends."

The sound of pounding feet was filling her ears now, and throaty cries echoed through the air. _Orcs_ , she thought, filled with loathing for the foul creatures. Her face hardened. "You fight."

The glamour fell away, and Boromir took a step backwards.

"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice shaking.

Tauriel smiled sadly. "An old - friend - of Legolas's." She whirled, sending an arrow hissing through the air. Several hundred feet away, an Orc toppled to the ground. She turned back to Boromir. "Blow your horn!"

He shook his head, his eyes wild. "No!"

She grasped him by the shoulders and shook, hard. "Yes," she growled. "You want to make amends, do you not?" He nodded, and she shoved him away. "Then fight!"

More arrows flew, and though her aim was true, the Orcs were approaching too fast.

Suddenly, silver music filled the air, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Boromir poured air into the horn, sending the pure sound echoing through the forest. The Orcs were upon them now, and she ducked and slashed without thought, all moves purely instinctive. Beside her, Boromir tore through the creatures, rage clouding his senses and sending him half-mad.

They fought together, and slowly, dozens of small scratches covered her arms and legs. A nick here - a lock of hair slashed away there - and then an arrow hissed through the air and smacked into Boromir's chest. He staggered, but forced himself onward.

She cried out in shock and horror, searching wildly for the archer.

"Boromir!" Aragorn roared, forcing his way towards him.

"Run," Boromir cried, "run!"

Another arrow smashed into him. He cried out, falling to his knees, but staggered onward. Tauriel was weeping openly now, tears racing down her face. She fought desperately, killing countless Orcs as she tried to make an opening to kill the archer.

A pair of Orcs ran by, with Merry and Pippin tossed over their shoulders. The two hobbits writhed, kicking and hitting in vain, as they cried out for help - from her, Aragorn, Boromir.

And suddenly, the Orcs were streaming away, racing after their leaders. She turned towards the archer, looking at his paint-coated face with intense hatred. She saw him raise his bow, saw him draw it back, saw the arrow begin its flight through the air - and without a second thought, she threw herself in front of Boromir. It smacked into her shoulder, half-in, half-off her leather armor, and the pain was mind-numbing. It dulled her other senses, leaving her gasping and retching. She looked up, waiting for another projectile to coming hissing through the air, and knowing full-well she would not be able to stop it.

Aragorn roared something, throwing himself at the Orc. The bow shattered, falling in pieces to the ground.

Tauriel forced herself onto hands and knees, swallowing bile. Her face contorted as she grasped the wooden shaft embedded in her shoulder and snapped it. Hissing through clenched teeth, she moved towards Boromir, who had collapsed on the ground. Three arrows were buried deep in his skin, and muscles twitched spasmodically in his stomach and arms.

" _Suilad Boromir, mellonig_ ," she whispered, swallowing hard.

Boromir turned his head, his breath rasping in his throat. Blood trickled from his mouth. "Are - they safe?" he gasped.

She was silent, the pain of her own wounds forgotten. _"Tancave_ ," she lied, unconsciously speaking in Elvish. She eyed the arrow shafts, then whispered, " _Goheno nin, mellon_." She quickly snapped the shafts as his body bucked against the pain.

"S-stop!" Boromir growled. She hesitated, but complied. "I'm dying," he said harshly. "Do not try and save me. I - I have accomplished want I wanted."

Her mouth tightened. "No!" Tauriel snapped, quickly examining the arrow heads. Only one could be pushed through all the way and removed. The rest she would have to dig out with a knife, and pray that she did not puncture a lung.

She glanced at Boromir's face, and paled even more. He was fading, and fast. Blood loss was taking its tole.

"I have to get you back to camp," she whispered, rolling him to one side. He grunted as she forced the arrow head through thick layers of muscle, cutting it off the shaft and sliding it all the way out. Praying that there were no splinters - or even worse, poison - still embedded in his flesh, she quickly did the same to her own wound. Blood poured from her shoulder, and she choked back a scream.

"Seena?"

She whipped around, one hand still wrapped around the arrow shaft in her shoulder. It was Aragorn. "Boromir," she rasped. "Get him back to camp. I - I can try to heal him."

He rushed forward, looking down. All color drained from his face. "What happened?" He knelt, grunting as he attempted to lift Boromir. "I can't move him. I need help." He glanced at her, taking in the change in her facial structure, and to his credit, remained impassive. "Can you assist me?"

She nodded. "Remove the arrow head first, I beg you."

He nodded, stepping behind her. With a quick, sharp movement, he broke off the arrow head and slid out the rest of the shaft. She gasped in a mixture of pain and relief, letting the wound bleed. It had not severed an artery.

Together, they hefted him, staggering towards camp. Blood stained Tauriel's hands, mingling with Boromir's and Aragorn's. The pain had subsided, and her mind was numb, but she knew it would come later. It always did.

* * *

"I need water," Tauriel rasped. "Hot water. And a needle." She sagged against a tree, her eyes scanning the area. A boat was missing. "Where is Frodo? And Sam?"

Aragorn turned to her. "They have left us," he said bluntly. He began to rummage through one of the packs, removing a small satchel within moments. Pulling out a small jar of antiseptic balm, he brandished a needle. "I must stitch your wound first. You cannot care for him in your current state."

She hesitated, but nodded. "Do it quickly."

Within seconds, the needle was punching through her flesh. She flinched, almost welcoming the tug and pull. Aragorn tied a knot, snapping the thread. She shifted, pulling the ragged edges of her armor and shirt together, giving up soon afterword and letting them fall apart.

"Give me the balm."

Aragorn did so, and she knelt at Boromir's side. He hissed and flinched as she applied it. Drawing a dagger, she sterilized it and began to work it into the wounds. Boromir reared up for a second, a wordless roar emanating from his chest, then collapsed into a dream world.

Soon, one arrow head had been successfully removed. She set to work on the final one, her jaw clenched. As she forcefully lifted the metal point from his flesh, setting it aside for later examination, someone spoke.

"Tauriel."

She closed her eyes, then rose, slowly turning to face him. "Legolas, _mellonamin_." She waited, waited for the greeting that would surely come - that _had_ to come.

Instead, she found herself with an arrow pointed at her heart.

* * *

 **Three words: _She doesn't die._ This scene happened for a reason, I promise. ****I will update as soon as possible. I apologize for the nasty cliffie!**

 **Happy Thanksgiving!**

 **As always, reviews are love. :)**


	12. Destroy Me

**Finally! I am so, so sorry for the delay in updating. Hope y'all had a happy Thanksgiving, and thank you for all the lovely encouragement! Love y'all!**

 **DonnieC, not at this time. Interesting idea, though! It definitely has potential for later on.  
sweetmochi, wait and see. ;)  
** **p8rfectStorM, haha! Legolas can definitely be a little odd at times.  
** **Warriorheart and ElvesRule, I have not yet decided whether or not to save Boromir. We'll see!  
Guest, very good point, and it is definitely one of the down-sides to my plot line. I have to make the characters a little OOC to make it all click together.**  
 **Ronan, glad you like it! It allows me to tie in bits of the past, present, and future, as well as movie scenes. It is also connected to her heritage.**  
 **dragontales, close, but not quite! Wait and see.  
Guest, Klarolineforever100, and fantasybooklover98, here ya go. :)**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

"What are you doing?" Tauriel gasped, her voice breaking slightly.

"What I should have done long ago." His voice was harsh, uncontrolled.

"Why?" she whispered.

The bowstring creaked slightly in the fleeting silence. "Why?" he finally said, his tone acidic. "Because you clearly no longer care about anyone other than yourself. Blood of many races stains your hands, Tauriel. You will not be able to wash it away."

She paled, the world around them fading away. Distantly, she heard Aragorn and Gimli murmuring, debating on what they should do and how to care for Boromir.

"You forget that I have also saved many," she murmured. "And much of what I have done was to protect those I cared for."

A muscle twitched in his jaw. "And yet, so many times you failed to protect the ones you wanted to save."

"I know," she said, her voice catching in her throat. "And that is why I have to do this."

He frowned in confusion, the arrow head dropping slightly. Tauriel dropped and rolled, her daggers jumping into her hands as she snapped to her feet directly behind Legolas. In but a heartbeat, the tables had been turned.

He froze, every muscle in his body coiling up, ready to explode at a moment's notice. Tauriel tried to get her injured arm wrapped more securely around his shoulders, swallowing a gasp as the stitches pulled at her flesh.

"Let me save him," she pleaded in Legolas's ear. "Let me save him, and I swear to you, I will do what you believe best for the Fellowship. Please."

Impossibly, his shoulders tensed even more. They were both still for several moments.

"Very well," Legolas finally said, multiple emotions battling fiercely for control. "I agree to this against my better judgment, and only then, to save Boromir." He relaxed slightly, then exploded forward, breaking her grasp and ripping open the stitches. Almost immediately, a warm liquid was dribbling down her arm.

Tauriel swallowed, bile rising in her throat. She knew deep down that she could not stop him – both her injuries and her emotions prevented her from doing so. He looked at her, and his eyes were stone cold. He did not touch her or threaten her in any way.

She sagged backwards for a moment. "Thank you," Tauriel whispered, and moved forward to Boromir. His breathing was uneven, the slow beat of his heart pausing at times. She glanced upward at Aragorn, who was standing slightly to the side, his face sober. "Do we have athelas?" she asked.

Gimli stepped forward, a green plant crushed in his palms. As he slipped it into Tauriel's hands, he patted her arm. "You're a good lass," he said awkwardly. She looked at him sadly, her eyes dull. Gimli leaned closer, meeting her gaze. Deep down, drowned underneath the pools of green, there was a small spark. He frowned, wondering how she would ever let it grow, and turned away.

"Boromir," Tauriel whispered. His eyelids jerked and fluttered slightly, and she placed a hand on his forehead. Her own skin was hot enough that she could not differentiate between their skin temperatures.

She twisted the herb in her hands, desperately trying to remember what she had done and said so long ago.

* * *

 _"You have to put your heart into it," Adreh said, smiling gently._

 _Tauriel nodded, placing her hands on the small, red-tinged flesh. She fought hard, pushing to remove the elf's ailments. And her hands began to glow. She gasped, and quickly began to speak._

 _When she pulled her hands away, there was no sign of injury on the now unblemished skin._

* * *

Tauriel felt the world around her fade. Breathing deeply, she quickly applied the crushed herb to the arrow wounds. Ignoring the congealed blood that was soon mixed with the green paste, she worked it well onto the wounds. She closed her eyes, trying to push something inside of her outward.

"Heal," she whispered.

Nothing happened.

She drew back, panic widening her eyes and washing over her face. She placed her hands on his forehead, trying to shove the small ball of light inside her outward and into Boromir.

Slowly, so very, very slowly, warmth spread down her arms and gathered in her finger tips. She gasped in relief, mouthing healing words over and over again.

She watched as, sluggishly, the wounds began to scab over. Her eyes drifted closed again as she pushed harder.

And then it all stopped. Her hands jerked back, abruptly cold and empty. Boromir's breathing had steadied slightly, and the blood had clotted over, but that was all.

Tauriel reached deep down inside, searching for the light she could use to heal him. There was nothing, though but moments before there had been a deep well of energy buried inside her. Her eyes flared bright behind closed lids with shock and anger.

Boromir shifted and coughed slightly.

She opened her eyes, feeling his forehead again. The skin was cooler than her own, now, and her shoulders slumped in mild relief.

She turned to the others, drained. "I have done all I can," she said hoarsely.

Aragorn nodded stoically, plainly expecting bad news. "How long will he last?"

She lifted her hands, palms up, looking at them in a daze. "I cannot say. Perhaps a day, or mayhap he will make it through." Her fingers clenched, hard. "I do not understand it. I could feel it, inside me. And then – it was gone. It vanished."

Aragorn was silent.

Gimli stepped forward, his helmet in his hands. Surprised, Tauriel noticed that the top of his head was streaked with grey. "You did well, lass," he said. "Not a one of us could have done it better, nay, not even him." His head jerked towards Legolas.

Tauriel's eyes flicked up, green meeting grey. She looked away immediately. Vaguely, she wondered if Legolas had been trained to heal. She looked back at Gimli, forcing her face to warm. "Thank you, _mellonamin_ ," she said.

"I was unaware you considered me a friend," Gimli said gruffly.

And now a tired smile was tugging at the corner of her mouth, and it was not forced. "Aye, I do. I was unaware you had learned elvish."

He snorted in disgust. "With you three around I would be hard pressed to understand any of the conversations unless they were in elvish. You talk more than the bloody hobbits do!" He sobered, catching his mistake, and a cloud hung over them.

Aragorn rose from his place at Boromir's side. "I thank you," he said. "His breathing has steadied, and it seems as though the damage has been corrected internally."

"I am glad," Tauriel said softly. She turned back to Gimli and nearly leaped backwards. Legolas stood directly before her, his jaw clenched. Unconsciously, her hand moved to her own wound.

Gimli stepped away, muttering something to Tauriel as he did so.

"You succeeded." It was not a question.

Tauriel shook her head wearily. "Nay. I did not accomplish what I wished."

Legolas stepped closer. "And what was that?"

Her eyes dropped. "To heal him completely, mind and body."

"That would have been nigh on impossible."

"Aye," she whispered. "I know, _mellon nin_." The words slipped past, born purely from habit. As soon as it escaped her lips, she regretted it.

His eyes widened, though she could not tell why. A mix of emotions flashed across his face before it finally returned to mildly disdainful calm. "I am not your friend," he said flatly. "I have my misgivings that I ever was."

Pain flashed across her face, quickly masked and replaced by indifference. "You may doubt the fact, but I do not. Even from a young age, you were close to me. And though I pushed you away repeatedly, you always came back."

"Not this time," Legolas said harshly. "I am done with following you in circles as you repeatedly abandon me and disregard what I feel and say."

Her eyes dropped at the truth in his words. "I am sorry," she said softly. She stepped back, raising her chin as she pulled painful memories to the surface. "I tried to die, you know. I did not want to linger in this world any longer."

His head tilted to the side, and there was a hint of surprise on his face. "I was unaware. I doubted that you would be unhappy with your choices, devastating to the rest of us as they might have been."

"Happy with my choices?" Tauriel whispered. "Would that it is true. I have regretted so many of them with every breath I have taken since. I regret that I let _them_ escape; I regret that I pushed you away in my youth. I scream over the dreams and nightmares alike that haunt my world. I feel the pulse of blood in my veins and wonder if I should have let it all drain away. Wonder if I deserve to live." Her hands slid to her wrists, unconsciously tracing the network of scars that marred her skin.

Legolas noticed the movement. "Your wrists. Show me."

She jerked them to her chest, her eyes wide and pleading. "No."

"Yes," he snapped, unyielding. With one quick, liquid movement, he had jerked her arms forward, peeling away the layers of leather and revealing pale skin. The veins in her wrists jumped slightly as she tensed, waiting for him to see the thin white lines.

Calloused fingers traced the slightly raised skin. "You slit your wrists." It was a statement, and it was tainted with horror and disust.

She closed her eyes, pushing away the flood of memories. "I tried to."

"You failed."

She jerked her hands away. "The knife was dull, my senses clouded. The world went dark around me in the woodland. For a time, I though I had died."

* * *

 _The woods were dark, the air heavy. She fell against the tree trunk, gasping, her body numb. Black and white spots danced before her eyes, and a smile tilted the corners of her mouth up. The trees creaked and groaned in the wind, sending her body swaying as she moved with it. She sighed, settling back against the trunk, waiting for loss of blood to take effect._

 _Soon, the light faded around her, leaving her world dark and empty._

 _She fell with a smile on her face, safe with the knowledge that she would die in the forest she loved so dearly._

* * *

Legolas stepped away. "You went back to Mirkwood."

Her mouth opened for a second before she managed to answer him. "Aye."

"How long did you stay there?" he demanded.

"I know not. I was delusional; I dreamed that the trees were holding me safe and that the wind told tales of the past and future. When I awoke, I was on the edges of the woodland, my bow and daggers by my side. I made my way across the lands; spent time in Rohan and Gondor alike, and often returned to Rivendell."

"To see Arwen."

"Aye. We fell apart after the first few years; I did not see her again until I was given word that the Fellowship was leaving."

"So you followed."

She nodded. "Aye.

He moved further away, bracing himself. With a lightning-fast movement, he nocked and drew an arrow. Tauriel gasped in shock, falling backwards for a moment, but straightened.

"Very well," she said. "I am ready." She lifted her head, her eyes flashing with green fire.

" _No_."

They both froze, then turned. Boromir stood on shaky legs, his face set.

"You will not harm her," he said flatly. He staggered towards them, sagging against Tauriel as she steadied him. His face was ashen. "Before you so much as touch her, you will go through me first."

Legolas fell back, and Tauriel would have done the same had she been able. "Don't," she murmured, shocked.

Boromir turned his head slightly. "This – is my way of making amends," he rasped. "Fear not."

Legolas lowered the bow, sliding the arrow back into his quiver. "Very well," he said bitterly, but underneath the acidic outer layer there was a hint of relief. Tauriel did not notice it. She hefted Boromir slightly, leading him back to the makeshift bed Aragorn and Gimli had fashioned.

"Rest," she said softly. Boromir groaned and closed his eyes.

Tauriel turned to Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli. "I will stay with him," she said softly. "You must go ahead. We will find you as soon as we can."

Aragorn hesitated. "How will you find us?"

She turned away, her eyes a faded evergreen. "I will see it." She did not know where the certainty came from, but it was there either way, and strangely enough, she felt that her words were true.

* * *

"Frodo," Boromir whispered to Aragorn, his voice strained. "Where is Frodo?"

"I let Frodo go."

Boromir held the Ranger's gaze, his eyes clear. "Then you did what I could not. I tried to take the Ring from him, Aragorn."

"I know," Aragorn said. "But the Ring is beyond our reach now."

"Forgive me. I did not see. I failed you all."

"No, Boromir. You fought bravely, " Aragorn said gently. "You have kept your honor."

"Leave us," Boromir rasped. "It is – unlikely I will see you again, but if I can, I will find you. Aragorn . . . the world of Men will fall and all will come to darkness. My city will fall to ruin. Aragorn –"

"I do not know what strength is in my blood, but I swear to you, I will not let the White City fall, nor your people fail." His voice was fervent.

"Our people," Boromir correct. " _Our_ people." He paused, coughing slightly. "I would have followed you, my brother, my captain, my King."

Aragorn rose, his face sagging slightly. "Be at peace, son of Gondor. I will it that we see each other again." Boromir nodded, and Aragorn stepped away. "Look after yourselves," he said to Tauriel. "May the Valar guide you, and may you both join us once more."

Gimli came forward, patting her hand. "I wish you well."

She smiled at him. "Thank you, my friend." She looked at Legolas, opening her mouth, the closed it. "Farewell." Grey eyes burned into green, and she nearly flinched.

Legolas turned away without a word.

Tauriel closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, they were gone.

* * *

 **There were several ways this chapter could go, and I essentially have four versions of what could have happened in the rest of this fic finished. After much delay, I finally decided on this one.**

 **Now, the next part of this fic could go two ways: Boromir lives for quite a while, or Boromir passes on very soon. I have two versions of the next chapters already written and in stages of editing. I'm essentially taking votes, haha! Leave your thoughts in that wonderful little box down there! :)**

 **I will update as soon as possible.**


	13. Into Shadow

**Guys, I am so sorry for the wait. Really, I am. And this time, there is honestly no excuse for the delay - I just didn't have a chance to update until now. I don't have time to respond to all the reviews, so all I can say for now is THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart. Whether you reviewed, followed, faved, or PMed me, thank you. Wish I could reach through the screen and give you all a hug!**

 **Thankfully, this is a nice, long chapter. :) Enjoy!**

* * *

Thranduil walked the woodland rarely now. Every inch of his body and soul ached, the pain incurable despite his attempts to wash it away. He often wondered where he found the strength to keep on living, but when he looked at the deepest part of his being he knew there was only one answer: _Legolas_.

With a wave of his hand, he signaled for a servant to come forth with wine. He fingered the crystal in his hand, idly wondering how much strength it would take to snap the delicate glass in half. Surely, it would be a minuscule amount even for the weakest of his subjects.

And thus, his mind wandered even more. Such was the way he spent his days, pushing away heartache, keeping himself from fading with every breath he took. Even now, Tauriel's parting words haunted him.

 _There is no love in you._

They tainted his very dreams; twisting his thoughts and making him see things that should not have been there. Making him see himself as the enemy.

 _And yet,_ he wanted to scream at her, _I stayed behind. I stayed behind and cared for my son and my kingdom! You say that is not love?_

The servant edged forward, filling the delicate crystal with fine wine. Thranduil inhaled deeply, forcing his fingers to uncurl from the fragile stem.

"Thank you," he said. The elf bowed and hurried away.

He lifted the glass. The wine was dark, almost the color of blood. The thought brought on a sudden onslaught of images, unwelcome and unexpected. Dreams, memories, and nightmares alike, they often disturbed the numbness of his days.

The crystal shattered, sending small shards of glass flying into his palms. He paid them no heed – they were minute and inconsequential. Setting the remains of the glass down on the table in front of him, he wiped the liquid from his palms. His tunic was hopeless, he saw after a quick glance.

The Elvenking rose, his palms streaming with fine wine and blood. The two liquids mingled, thickening as they slid off his skin. With a sigh, Thranduil dipped his hand into a bowl of water. Carefully rinsing the small cuts, he worked as much glass as possible out. Lifting his hands, he examined them carefully. There were still small shards glittering on his pale skin.

Carefully, his face completely emotionless, the Elvenking picked the tiny pieces from his palm, then glided to his personal chambers to change his tunic.

Sliding a silver tunic over his head, he carefully replaced his crown. Gazing at himself in the mirror, he watched as one of the leaves floated to the floor. Even as the forest faded, his crown withered.

Sudden fury filled him, unexpected and yet strangely welcome. He ripped the crown off his head, grasping it in shaking hands. The wood began to splinter; the strength in his limbs was undiminished. He gazed into the mirror, looked at the pale, seemingly smooth skin. A tear burned its way out of the corner of one eye and slid down his cheek, leaving a scalding reminder of its presence.

Behind him, reflected in the mirror, something moved. Long, long locks of blazing red hair.

Thranduil turned, a bitter smile hovering on his lips.

"Hello, Audriel," he said wearily. "I knew you would return. You always do."

* * *

Aragorn looked at Gimli, his brows drawn together in a frown. "I fear we will not see a one of them again," he said softly.

Gimli growled something into his beard. "The elf's a bloody fool if he lets them both die. The lass has gone through enough already."

"How do you know this?"

"The fair Lady of the Wood knows much," the dwarf said, his voice almost mysterious.

Aragorn stared at him for a second, then burst out laughing. "Come, _mellonamin_ ," he said, clapping Gimli on the shoulder. "We must go. Legolas and the others will find us soon enough."

"Bloody elvish," Gimli snarled.

* * *

"Tell me," Boromir rasped, "what was your kin like?"

Tauriel froze, remaining motionless for several heartbeats. "I cannot say," she said slowly. "I – I did not meet them."

His head turned slightly in question.

She hesitated, rocking back and forth on the ground, arms wrapped around her knees. "My – mother – died when I was young. I do have some memories of her, though they are faint. Just glimpses, flashes of the past. My father, I never even knew. I believe he went mad."

Boromir was silent, and for a time Tauriel thought he had fallen asleep. "Do you have any siblings?" he asked.

"Nay." There was an implied question in her words, but Boromir ignored it.

"Was it hard?" he finally asked. "To leave it all behind, I mean."

"Aye," she whispered. "It hurt. It hurt so very, very much."

Words hung in the air, heavy and filled with implication.

 _Because I, too, have felt Shadow's embrace. It pulls you in, whispers sickly sweet promises in your ear, but then it leaves you and, inside, you die . . . . You fight, both for your sanity and for the ones you once betrayed or cared for . . ._

"Why does Legolas dislike you so much?" Boromir asked abruptly.

"Because I turned him away," she said softly. "So many times, I turned him away. Blind!" she burst out. "I was so blind."

"Yes," he agreed, "you probably were – perhaps still are, even now." There was a pause, and then a laugh burst from him. "Look at us. Laying here, our bodies rebelling against us. I thought elves healed quickly?"

Tauriel chuckled. "Only a precious few of our kind have that ability. The rest are just much harder to injure."

"Why did you save me?"

"Because you are my friend," she said simply. "And I have let far too many friends slip away from me."

Hours passed, with Tauriel forcing herself to rise and scout the area every half-hour. The moon rose as darkness fell, and Boromir raised a shaking hand. "Look," he rasped. "The moon. It is silver."

She poured steaming water into a small metal dish, letting ground herbs dissolve in the heat. After waiting a moment, she bathed her wound and moved to do the same for Boromir. "Perhaps you are seeing it through new eyes," she mused, "for it has always been that color through my own."

He shifted slightly, hissing through clenched teeth. "Perhaps."

She turned away, reaching for new bandages. The wounds decorating their bodies were now oozing amber liquid, and it scared her. She had not forgotten what had happened so long ago, and knew full-well that she did not have the knowledge or skill to heal them both.

Winding the cloth around Boromir's bare torso, she checked the inflammation of the wounds. Boromir had surprised her with his willingness to let her heal him – most men she had ever attempted to care for protested madly.

Handing Boromir a small piece of lembas, Tauriel moved quite a ways from him. After a quick scan of the area, she removed her armor and tunic, winding the bandage across her arm and chest. Several smaller wound were also cleaned thoroughly.

Something skittered across the ground several feet away. Out of habit, Tauriel whipped an arrow from her quiver and tried to draw it on her bow. The attempt failed miserably; the movement pulled on her shoulder too much.

She dropped the bow and arrow, throwing a dagger with her good hand. It whipped through the air and hit its target with a muffled thud. She edged forward, then lifted the dead rabbit from the leaf-litter _. How odd,_ she though. _There should be no rabbits here at this time of year_.

Tauriel hesitated, but lifted the limp carcass up and began to skin it. She saved the guts and pelt, knowing that they would likely become useful later on.

Sliding the tunic and leather armor back on, she retrieved the bow and arrow. With the rabbit swinging from one hand, she made her way back to their make-shift camp. The fire she would need to cook the meat was risky, but a necessity. She could boil more bandages at the same time.

"Boromir," she called, edging towards his motionless form. His eyes were opened wide, unblinking. The sight was eerie, painted as it was on a non-elven face. She froze, looking down at him in horror. "Boromir."

There was no answer for several moments, the air between them charged with electricity. A tear gathered in the corner of her eye.

And then he inhaled, gulping in a huge lungful of air calmly.

She gasped in relief, her heart beating erratically. "Thank the Valar."

Boromir chuckled gratingly. "Fear not. I was doing nothing more than examining the sky."

She nodded, her pulse slowly calming. "Very well." Her expression changed. "But I beg you, do not do that again!"

"I may do just that, if only to compensate for the many times you have jabbered on and on in Elvish," he muttered.

Tauriel stared at him incredulously for a moment, then threw back her head and laughed at the absurdity of it all. The musical notes surprised them both, and she abruptly cut the sound off. Boromir was silent for several seconds, gathering his thoughts, then said, " _I lalaith gîn siria thar nin sui eithel_." His pronunciation mangled the delicate syllables.

Her eyes widened in surprise even as she resisted the urge to cringe. "Who taught you elvish?" A warm glow was rapidly growing inside her; she wrapped her arm

"Legolas. He spent days laboring over every single word. Many times I thought he would become ill at my 'horrific accent'."

Tauriel almost smiled, her face falling as the attempt failed. "That sounds very much like him."

"Aye."

They were silent for many minutes, the utter stillness broken only when Tauriel rose to start a fire.

She looked out into the night, her senses straining for any hint of danger. Amongst the trees, she could have sworn there was a flash of silver. She stared, heartbeat accelerating rapidly, then shook herself.

 _Nothing_ , she thought. _It was nothing_.

* * *

Audriel smiled, and the sight was chilling. Her grin was predatory, baring her teeth and curling her lips. Thranduil was still for several moments as he looked at her coldly.

"How did you get here?" he finally demanded.

Her eyes narrowed to slits, and suddenly he was looking at a member of the Guard. The face of the relatively young elleth, contorted as it was from innocent into threatening, was both horrifying and deeply saddening.

Audriel dropped the glamour. "Fear not, she still lives. I merely deepened her sleep."

Thranduil gathered his thoughts, shaking away the lethargy that had encased him for so long. "Why are you here, Audriel?"

Her face shifted again, the hair fine and light brown. Her eyes were a strange shade somewhere between blue and brown, her facial features generally small. The change in her profile was disorienting.

"I found Tauriel," she said. "And Legolas." Her face snapped back into place.

Thranduil froze, his heartbeat accelerating rapidly. "Legolas?" he asked carefully.

She nodded. "Aye. And though many years and many battles separate us, I ask of you this." She paused. "Help me save my daughter, and I will help you save your son."

"Why?" Thranduil hissed. "I have no inclination to so much as house you in my dungeons."

Her lip curled in annoyance. "Because they will both die if we do not take action," she snapped.

"How so?" the Elvenking demanded.

Audriel chuckled darkly. "You did not know? Legolas joined the Fellowship of the Ring, has been following the Ring-Bearer across the lands. Tauriel is with them as well. I have seen snippets of the future; if they continue on this course they will all meet ruin and death. Already, one of their number has betrayed them."

Thranduil was silent.

Audriel grinned again. "You were ignorant of these proceedings, were you not?"

He nodded jerkily.

"Lord Elrond did not send word until it was too late. Tell me, Thranduil, how long has it been since you communed with others?"

"Far too long, it seems," he said, the words rasping painfully from his throat.

Audriel hummed something low in her throat, her face relaxed despite the tension in her shoulders. "Perhaps you should pay more attention to the events outside your ruined forest."

"Enough!" Thranduil thundered.

She paused. "Yes, princeling?"

"I am a prince no longer but a king," he growled, "a fact you should know well."

"Ah," she said sweetly, "forgive me. It has been so long."

Knowing full-well that her apology was as false as it sounded, if not falser, Thranduil struggled to calm himself. Somehow, these fiery-haired elves, mother and daughter alike, managed to get under his skin as few others could. It irritated him greatly that both Tauriel and Audriel could reduce him to a coherent ball of rage and frustration in mere minutes.

"You will tell me all you know of what has transpired amongst the Fellowship," the Elvenking said flatly, "or you will be thrown into my deepest dungeons."

Audriel raised a single brow. "Aye? I thought you had - let me see - 'no inclination to so much as house you in my dungeons'?"

The Elvenking gritted his teeth, hating the arrogance painted over her features. "Or I could destroy you," he said smoothly.

Audriel paled. "You could try," she said slowly, but her tone was far from certain now.

"What do you know?" he growled.

Green eyes stared back at him defiantly, flickering with unquenched flames. "If you kill me, you will never know."

Dark brows drawn together, Thranduil pushed his face close to Audriel's. The difference in their heights made it slightly uncomfortable for him to do so. "I am Elvenking," he hissed, "and you _will_ tell me what you have discovered."

She drew back, shaken. "Very well." She folded her lean frame into a surprisingly compact shape as she sat.

Thranduil remained standing.

Her lips flattened into a thin line. "Tauriel joined the Fellowship shortly after they left Rivendell. They passed through the Mines of Moria, loosing one of their companions along the way. Soon after, they made their way to the Golden Wood - "

"Enough!" Thranduil growled. "Speak no more of your daughter and tell me what has happened to my son!"

She hissed through clenched teeth and rose. "As you wish, _my lord_."

* * *

Legolas stood, the branches of the tree swaying underneath his feet. Below and beyond him lay Boromir and Tauriel's camp, small and incomplete though it was. Tauriel shifted in her sleep, her facial features tightening abruptly.

He stared down at them, his heart aching for reasons both known and unknown. Dully, he murmured a poem of his own composing, the lines written to fill the silence of the night.

 _" O'er the Mountains, in Shadow deep_  
 _Awakes the warrior from her sleep_  
 _Time has torn and grief has worn_  
 _And yet she rose again_  
 _She will fight and foes will fall_  
 _But in the Forest standing tall_  
 _Are those who call out loud_  
 _Their leaves fluttering to the ground_  
 _Fallen into Shadow_

 _"Speak not of those who Fade_  
 _Though a Sacrifice has been made_  
 _Whisper of instead_  
 _Those who have stained their hands in Red_  
 _And fought the ones who they once loved_  
 _Fallen into Shadow_

 _"For time will tear and grief will wear_  
 _'Tis a Battle she will not win_  
 _Rage can destroy so much within_  
 _For in the Forest standing tall_  
 _Are those who call out loud_  
 _Their leaves fluttering to the ground_  
 _Fallen into Shadow."_

* * *

 **A Merry Christmas to you all! Wishing you all the best. :)**

 **I will update as soon as possible - hopefully sometime shortly after New Year, but reviews definitely help speed the process along. :)**

 **Until next time!**


	14. Burn

**Yay, an update! Thanks you all for your support. I am relieved that I'm able to post this so quickly!**

 **guest, haha! That was kinda the goal. And yes, it probably is a given, but I have changed things up a bit in this fic. Elven abilited are either not as potent or slightly enhanced, depending on who it is and what is happening.**  
 **Warriorheart5 (so glad to see you got an account), there will be little to none of Arwen and her investigation for a good while. I reached a good stopping point, and there was not too much more I could say on that particular subject without giving it all away. :p**  
 **AppleCrisp, LOL! Legolas can be a bit stubborn. ;)**  
 **Guest, so glad you enjoyed it!**  
 **shenagians, you're welcome, although sadly it won't last for long. :(**  
 **TaurielForeststar, so glad you enjoyed it! I hope you continue to enjoy the series.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _"Don't touch me!" she snarled, jerking her hand away._

 _Legolas frowned down at the small elleth. "You require assistance if you are to walk."_

 _Her lip curled. "I will manage." Her voice was surprisingly rich, belying her slim frame and fragile appearance. She had not yet gained the fine, lilting tone of the elves, raised away from her kin as she was._

 _He watched her struggle for a moment, seeing the fierce determination burning underneath the surface. Grudgingly, he admitted to himself that she was strong. "If you fall, I will be forced to carry you."_

 _"I will not fall."_

 _"Very well."_

 _They walked on in silence. Legolas looked down at her every few minutes, curious about how this strange, red-haired elf had come to be so very wary of others. He briefly considered asking her, but discarded the idea. She would only glare at him and limp away._

 _"Your father is very tall."_

 _Legolas jumped slightly; the words were unanticipated. He looked down at her. She was staring back at him, her green eyes huge in her face. He was unnerved by the look in her eyes, a strange depth that should not have come to be there for many years._

 _"Well?" she demanded. "Are you going to speak to me, or are you going to stand there as if you've gone daft?"_

 _He opened his mouth to shoot back a scathing comment, and then stopped, for he had nothing to say. With a slightly audible click, he shut his mouth, feeling foolish._

 _She shook her head in disgust, red hair swirling around her shoulders as she did so. "Perhaps he_ is _daft," she said under her breath._

 _"No," Legolas growled, finding his voice, "I am not daft. Indeed, I am far from it. I have been tutored by some of the most highly respected individuals in the elven kingdoms."_

 _She looked at him from the corner of her eye, unimpressed. "And?"_

 _The tips of his ears turned pink. "And nothing."_

 _She snorted, falling silent for several minutes. Legolas, reluctant to start up the conversation again, avoided eye contact and remained several steps behind her._

 _She whirled around suddenly. "What are they going to call me?" she burst out._

 _Legolas froze, hesitating even though he knew that he would have to tell her eventually. "Tauriel," he said. "Your name is Tauriel."_

* * *

Legolas was still for several long moments, treasuring the lingering memory as his father had once caressed his wife's finest jewels. Looking down at Tauriel, he watched as she bathed Boromir's wounds for the third time that day.

 _She cares for him dearly_ , he thought, fighting back an unexpected flash of jealousy. His resentment towards Boromir disgusted him deeply, and bile began to rise in his throat. _Even now, she is tainting me_.

Too late, he realized he had spoken his thoughts aloud.

Tauriel looked up, and though the leafy branches concealed him completely, he could have sworn she met his gaze. Something flashed deep down in the pools of green – recognition? Fear? – and then she was standing, a dagger in one hand.

"Forgive me," she murmured to Boromir, and began to advance quickly towards Legolas's tree.

He froze, praying that she would turn back.

She didn't.

Hesitating for a mere moment to sheathe the dagger and unsling her bow from her shoulder, Tauriel tested it, drawing the cord slightly past her ear. Legolas sensed that she was verifying her strength, trying to discover if her wound had healed enough to nock and draw an arrow.

She relieved the pressure on the cord, then flipped an arrow from her quiver and nocked it.

A shiver ran down his spine. He had no way of knowing how she would react to his presence. Long ago, when they had still been friends, she had almost put an arrow through him in exchange for his watching her without her knowledge. The chances of it happening once more were greatly increased this time, and he had little doubt that she would miss, though before it had been by mere inches.

Tauriel reached the base of the tree.

Legolas remained perfectly still, holding his breath, not even blinking.

She cocked her head, listening, then reached up and flipped herself into the tree.

He slumped slightly, resigned.

She continued to climb, her legs scissoring as she retrieved the momentum and used it to her own advantage. With a final heave, she was but a few feet below him.

Sighing, Legolas opened his mouth to call out. He never got a chance. Far sooner than he had anticipated, she had lunged forward and slipped a knife to his throat. The movement was quick and clean, and if she wished she could slit his throat with but a single twitch of her hand.

"Hello, Legolas," she hissed in his ear.

* * *

Tauriel's grip tightened around Legolas's neck, every inch of her body loose and yet ready for a fight. Rage burned hot in her veins, reducing any regret she had had to ashes.

"How long have you been here?" she growled.

He hesitated.

"Do not lie to me," she warned him, the blade drawing a small bead of blood at his throat. "I will know, and I have no patience for lies today."

Legolas swallowed almost calmly. "I have been here since briefly after Aragorn and Gimli left."

Tauriel recoiled slightly, horror painted on her face. " _What_?"

"I believe you heard me clearly the first time."

Tauriel's lips thinned, her skin stretched tautly over her cheek bones. Ever since she had dropped the glamour, her face had been sharper-cut, though she hoped it would fade.

"So despite your blatant hatred of me, you decided to come back and _spy_ on me - us?" she demanded.

"Apparently," he said dryly.

Her breath hissed through clenched teeth. "You will leave," she said calmly. "You will leave, and you will not dare to come back. Boromir and I will follow Aragorn and Gimli shortly. Despite my lies, I have never had anything but the good of the Fellowship in mind. I admit I have pondered about your own intentions."

Legolas stiffened. "You mock me."

"Nay. I merely state the truth behind my thoughts."

She faintly heard his teeth grinding together.

"Careful," she said in a sing-song tone. "You could hurt yourself."

He tried to explode forward, but was stopped by the razor sharp-blade at his throat. "Do not try to get away from me," Tauriel said softly into his ear. "I will have no qualms about putting an arrow through one of your legs. They say that the lower thigh is particularly painful, though I have never had the opportunity to test the theory."

Legolas stilled, sagging back against her chest. Tauriel knew exactly what he was hoping for, and was careful to keep the blade close to his throat.

"Remember," she whispered. "I trained with you for years. Indeed, you taught me most of what I know in archery. And I taught you how to fight with a pair of blades. I know you far too well for you to even try and escape my grip.

"Then let me go," Legolas said. "You know I will keep my word if I leave you and Boromir behind."

"No, I don't," Tauriel said flatly. "You have lied to me before, you will likely do it again. You no longer carry even a fraction of my trust. I would expect no less of you were our positions changed."

"You lied to me," he pointed out. "Lied to me hundreds of times. Lied to us all with every breath you took. There is no forgiveness in my heart for someone who does that."

Though he could not see it, her eyes flashed bright with pain behind his back.

"So this is how it will be? For the rest of our lives, we will follow each other, threatening death and pain if the other does not leave." There was abrupt and intense sadness in her voice, and it surprised Legolas.

"Perhaps," he said.

Tauriel stepped away, the movement swift and deliberate. "Go. Go, and do not come back. I have no wish to see you again, but I have no doubt our paths will cross once more when I join Gimli and Aragorn once more. I will be watching, Legolas. Do not even try to return. Next time, only one of us will be walking away unharmed."

Legolas turned to look at her, mild shock in his grey eyes. He shook his head. "Very well." There was a moment of tense silence, and then he began to slip away.

Unspoken words hovered in the air. _Goodbye_.

When she was sure he was gone, Tauriel slid into a sitting positon, her eyes bright with suppressed tears. As much as it had hurt others to say and do what she had done, she often wondered if they ever stopped to consider how much of an effect it had on herself.

How much pain and guilt washed over her every time she _remembered_.

How everyone she had ever been close to haunted her waking hours and screamed in her dreams.

She forced herself to stand on shaky legs.

"Remember," she told herself. "Remember that you can't go back."

* * *

Deep in the woodland that she had once loved so much, the trees were stirring.

 _Audriel_ , they whispered. _She is back. But her daughter. Where is her daughter? She carries the key to the return of the Greenwood as it once was_.

All fell silent. Their branches slowly turned to dust, their leaves collapsing like parchment in the breeze. They fell, the sound thundering through the broken forest.

And in his fortress of stone, Thranduil sat on the oaken throne that was slowly crumbling beneath him, his face emotionless. There was no hint of pain or regret on his face. Indeed, he looked purely impartial to the world around him.

But if you looked closely, there was something sliding down his cheek. The single droplet glittered like the finest diamond, sparkled like the far-away stars. It was pure and beautiful, woven

For the first time in centuries, the Elvenking was crying.

* * *

Boromir slept fitfully, the fever ravaging his body. Tauriel sat with him in silence, her back against the tree trunk. Her shoulder throbbed painfully with every pulse of her heart, but the discomfort was minimal compared to the ache in her heart.

She blinked, bracing herself against the pain. It was a small price to pay for the Fellowship's safety.

With a quite grunt as she twisted towards Boromir, Tauriel sighed, a small smile twisting her mouth as she looked at him. His lips had begun to crack and bleed, soothed only by a reduction in the fever. And yet, there was a small piece of her that wanted to take him in her arms and comfort him. Days ago, she had reluctantly admitted to herself that she could have loved him.

Already, she cared for him just as much as she had cared for _him_ – for Kili. The familiar twinge in her chest was right.

But somehow, it was not the same as the glow she drew from Legolas. Not as bright, nor as strong.

"I loved him," she said aloud. "I love him still. But it is best for us both that we live our lives apart. His father would never forgive me if I did wed him. Indeed, I might never forgive myself. I would tear his life apart and scatter it to the wind. We are far too different, and the gap between us has only widened."

Boromir shifted on the small, makeshift bed.

"You asked me once if I thought he would forgive me. He won't. Not this time. Not after what I have said and done. I pushed him too far too many times, and though it is best for us both, it still hurts."

Boromir gasped something suddenly, and she started. Rushing to him, she knelt at his side.

" _Mellon_?" she whispered.

He inhaled sharply, his hand jerking towards her own. "Tauriel. _Mellonamin_. Please, don't go."

She smiled at him sadly, barely noticing his mangling of the delicate elvish word. "I won't," she whispered. "I promise."

* * *

Lord Elrond stared out into the courtyard, his face stern. Words echoed in his ears, words from a thousand years ago. They had been filled with malice, with pain – with hate.

 _Liar! You lied to me._

 _I am not evil, brother. But then again, what is truly dark? Shadow can only destroy so much._

 _You have fallen_ , he had said.

And then his sister smiled, and the grin was as terrifying as it was beautiful. _Yes, I have_.

He compared his oldest memories to his experience with Tauriel. With the elf who had the same fire, the same black blood running in her veins. His own words came back to him, but they were not the ones he had spoken to the elf with the blazing red locks. No, these had been uttered to his sister.

 _Don't go. Please_.

Fire flowing through her, destroying all reason. He could see it, see it burning through her veins and rendering her mind and body to ashes. _I already have, brother. You have just been too blind to see it_.

Lord Elrond turned, walking slowly into his chambers. With a shaking hand, he turned aside the piles of old parchment, searching for the small, leather bound book that should have been there. His chest ached, and he desperately wanted to see something that she had once touched with fingers that were still warm, smiled about even in her darkest days.

There was nothing. Horror washed over him, turning his skin hot and cold in turn. _No. No! This – this was all I had left of her_. He closed his eyes against the throbbing wound that should have healed long ago and yet had not. He fell back, the pain turning his legs to water as he sank to the stone floor. The fire was in _him_ now, red-hot, scorching at his heart. After so long, it should have died. Should have been destroyed with _her_.

But it hadn't. Because somewhere, there was another elf with an ember inside her chest, aching for freedom.

The fire was indeed still burning. And he feared that it would destroy them all.

* * *

 **Soooo. Yeah. Insert awkward silence here.**  
 **'Kay, silence over. I will be updating ASAP, though it might be a little later than usual due to a packed work schedule. Hope y'all enjoyed the snippets of Legolas/Tauriel. And no, this will not be a Boromir/Tauriel fic. I promise.**

 **R &R, please!**


	15. White Hand

**Finally got this up! :D Thanks for the support, y'all!**

 **ClaraS, so glad you enjoyed it. I've been trying to include more conversations with Tauriel and other people, instead of just Tauriel/Legolas scenes.  
Warriorheart5, I sent you a PM. ;)  
xXx3LegTaur4Evr, wait and see!  
annie, LOL! Trust me, there is a reason.**

 **Now, if I missed any reviews, I apologize. has been glitching on me lately with reviews. *sigh* Oh, and random chunks of the text keep on disappearing as well. I've been fixing these as I find them, and I apologize in advance for any in this chapter.  
This is another uber-long chapter, so hopefully it will make up for the shorter ones I've been posting recently. There is also a bit of a time jump in this chapter; I had to skip over Boromir and Tauriel's journey back to Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas for the time being. There will be more info provided on that soon, though.**

 **Enjoy! :)**

* * *

 _Feet. Marching across the ground, covered in dried mud and white paint._

 _"Merry," someone moaned. "Merry!"_

 _There was no answer._

 _A signal, and the Uruk-hai halted._

 _"What is it?" one growled. "What do you smell?"_

 _Another sniffed the air loudly. "Man-flesh."_

 _"Aragorn!" Pippin gasped softly._

 _"They've picked up our trail. Let's move!" a Uruk-hai roared._

 _Pippin struggled for a moment, the reek of rotten flesh filling his senses. With a fumbling of his hands, the elven brooch fell from his grasp and landed on the ground. He watched as feet crushed it deeper into the soil, begged it to remain unbroken._

 _The world went dark._

* * *

Tauriel lurched upright with a gasp, the heat flooding away from her body as she breathed in deeply. Aragorn looked down at her with mild concern, his face questioning. "Their pace has quickened," she said wearily, rising to stand at his side. "They have caught our scent; we must hurry."

From several dozen feet away, Legolas stiffened. "What of Boromir?"

She sighed, gazing down at Boromir's sleeping form. "We have no choice," she murmured. "He must come with us. He has no chance if we leave him here, and though I have managed to heal most of the internal and external damage, his scars have not fully hardened yet. They will split open if he over-exerts himself."

Legolas looked at her coldly. "Surely you can complete the healing."

"Nay. I have done all I can," Tauriel said softly, not meeting his gaze.

Aragorn crouched down, shaking his friend's shoulder gently. "Boromir. "

Boromir's eyes flickered open momentarily, then closed again. "What?"

"We must go after the hobbits," Aragorn said gently. "And though I wish you could stay here and rest, you must join us."

He moaned, sitting upright. Shirtless as he was, Tauriel could see the ripple of the thick, knotted skin that now lay above his wounds. She winced slightly as one scar stretched almost to the breaking point, wondering how Boromir could be so very oblivious.

Aragorn glanced at her, the message clear in his eyes. _Go_.

She nodded her assent and turned away to face Gimli, being careful to avoid eye contact with Legolas. "Come, _mellon_. We should gather the goods."

He growled something into his beard.

A smile quirked Tauriel's lips, and she smothered a laugh. Turning, she gasped and almost ran into Legolas.

"What – what are you doing?" she demanded, fighting to keep her voice steady.

He looked at her, hard. "Gathering our supplies," he said evenly. "I had thought you'd be pleased with my assistance."

She stiffened, at a loss for words. His face was blank, emotionless, and she could not discern the intent behind his words and actions. "Thank you," she said slowly, unconsciously backing away.

Something flashed across his face, disappearing before she could place it. He nodded stiffly, and walked away to join Aragorn and Boromir, bow swinging easily in one hand. Tauriel turned to Gimli. "Come," she said softly. "We should join them."

* * *

"Come on, Gimli!" Aragorn called, loping easily after Tauriel.

Gimli paused, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Three days' and nights' pursuit. No food. No rest. And no sign of our quarry but what bare rocks can tell!" He began to jog after them once more.

Tauriel choked on a laugh, glancing at Boromir, who was running smoothly at her side. Up ahead, Legolas danced easily around holes and rocks, his booted feet finding easy purchase on the rough ground.

"Fear not, _mellonamin_ ," she called back, knowing full well that her use of elvish would irritate him further. "We are drawing near to where I last saw them."

"Blasted elves!" Gimli roared in response.

Aragorn had a sudden and seemingly severe coughing fit. Tauriel glanced at the ground, a smile blooming on her lips. For a moment, she did not fully comprehend the image in front of her, and then it hit her like a bolt of lightning.

She knelt, carefully loosening the brooch from the muck. "They were carried away from here," she murmured.

Aragorn and Boromir halted by her side. "Not idly do the leaves of Lórien fall," Aragorn said.

Legolas was staring at her now, a frown painted over his face. "They may yet be alive, then."

Tauriel nodded, closing her eyes and concentrating. For a moment, there was only fire, and then an image blossomed behind her closed lids. Her eyes popped open. "They are less than a day ahead of us," she said. "Come!"

* * *

Gimli groaned, stumbling on the hard ground and rolling from behind a rock.

"Come, Gimli! We are gaining on them!" Legolas called. Tauriel glanced back at them. Their often playful comments had flown thick through the air in the past few hours, though she had wondered why Gimli wasted his breath on the arguments.

"I am wasted on cross-country!" Gimli panted. "We dwarves are natural sprinters! Very dangerous over short distances!"

Tauriel paused as she came over the hill, looking down at the clouds of dust spreading across the plains below.

"Rohan," she said, the word flowing off her tongue like water. "Home of the horse-lords."

Aragorn shook his head darkly. "There is something strange at work here. Some evil gives speed to these creatures, sets its will against us."

Tauriel nodded vaguely and turned away, murmuring a few words to Boromir as she handed him a small leather cloth with salve smeared over it for the slowly fading scars.

Legolas gazed out on the horizon for several long moments, his brows drawn together in a frown.

"Legolas, what do your elf eyes see?" Aragorn asked.

He stared for a moment longer, then shook himself. "The Uruks turn northeast. They're taking the hobbits to Isengard!"

They froze.

And then Tauriel opened her mouth, hardly knowing where the word came from even as it left her lips. "Saruman," she growled, in perfect harmony with Aragorn. He stared at her for a moment in mild surprise, then turned away.

"We rest for a quarter-hour," he said calmly, steadily. "It will give us all time to rest and recuperate."

But the glance he shared with Tauriel said far more.

* * *

Éowyn gasped, rushing up the stairs and into a bedchamber. "Théodred!" she whispered, horrified.

He focused on her face, hearing her words and unable to respond. Éowyn glanced upward at Éomer, who nodded towards the injured man's torso. She drew back the covers, her lips white. Her eyes flicked downward, registering the blood, and a hand flew up to cover her mouth.

For a second, there was nothing but naked pain written on her features. And then they hardened, and she looked upward at Éomer.

" _Enough_ ," she said.

* * *

"Arwen."

She whipped around, her dark hair rippling around her shoulders. " _Ada_?"

"Where is the book?" Lord Elrond asked wearily.

Arwen froze, her lips parted slightly. "Forgive me," she said after a moment. "I know not of what you speak."

His face darkened as he fought to keep his calm. "The book – the one my sister wrote!"

Her eyes widened. " _What_?"

"My sister. Seena. I want her book!" he growled.

Arwen was very still, hardly breathing as her mind worked furiously to untangle the secrets wrapped around her father and the small leather book. "Your sister," she said carefully. "She wrote the book. And you want it back."

Fire was roaring in his veins now, and yet there was still a part of him begging her to understand, for this was not just a book. "Aye."

His daughter rose, gliding towards a small, leather bound volume leaning against the stone wall. "Here," she murmured. "I am sorry that I took it. But I had to know. "

His fury ebbed. "Thank you," he said, and suddenly he was so very, very tired. Weary of his life in this land, weary of the battles and the blood and the pain. Lord Elrond turned, walking slowly away.

"Father."

He turned back to Arwen. Her face was stern, all hard lines and cold angles, and for an instant he saw a glimmer of himself in it. "Aye?"

"You should tell Tauriel. It may be the turning of the tide for us all." She slipped past him, away into the night.

And still he stood there, an odd pounding in his chest that had not been there for many centuries. The night was cool, the stars bright, and suddenly so many memories were flashing before him that he could no longer discern past from present. They were not the dark nostalgias that had so often assailed him in the past week. No, these were snippets of days filled with love and light and laughter, the essence of what his sister had been before Shadow had taken her.

These memories were the ones he wanted to save. Wanted to treasure.

"Very well," he whispered.

* * *

"Your son is badly wounded, my lord." Éowyn's voice was strong, despite the fact that her face was pale and set.

"He was ambushed by Orcs," Éomer said roughly, stepping forward with a helmet in one hand. "If we don't defend our country, Saruman will take it by force."

"That is a lie!" Grima Wormtongue slid from the shadows, hair hanging greasily before his eyes. "Saruman the White has ever been our friend and ally."

Theoden began to mumble thickly, his milky eyes trying to focus on the blurry images before him. "Grima . . ." he groaned. "Grima?"

Wormtongue leaned close to the King, a smirk playing on his lips.

"My son? Grima?" Theoden rasped.

"Orcs are roaming freely across our lands," Éomer broke in. "Unchecked. Unchallenged. Killing at will. Orcs bearing the white hand of Saruman." He dropped the helmet in his hand and it clattered to the floor, a white handprint slapped across the helm.

Grima's lip curled. "Why do you lay these troubles on an already troubled mind? Can you not see? Your uncle is wearied by your malcontent, your war-mongering."

" _War-mongering_?" Éomer roared, and in an instant he had Grima by the neck, slamming him against a stone pillar. "How long is it since Saruman bought you? What was the promised price, Grima? When all the men are dead you will take your share of the treasure?"

Grima's eyes flicked to the right, focusing briefly on Éowyn. She glanced back, and Éomer followed Wormtongue's gaze. With a growl, he jerked the man's head back around.

"Too long have you watched my sister," he hissed. "Too long have you haunted her steps."

The naked fear in Grima's face faded. Abruptly, Éomer was pulled away, and Grima rose, straightening his robes. "You see much, Éomer, son of Eomund. Too much. You are banished forthwith from the kingdom of Rohan, under pain of death!"

* * *

"Keep breathing!" Gimli gasped. "That's the key! Breathe!"

Legolas paused, meeting Tauriel's gaze for a brief instant. "They've run as if the very whips of their masters were behind them."

"Perhaps they are," she murmured.

They ran, ran for so long and so fast she feared Boromir and Gimli would fail. Several times, she urged Aragorn to let them take short periods of rest. Repeatedly, he would shake his head tersely and murmur, "If they cannot make it now then they may never be able to do so again." She would narrow her eyes and try to resist the urge to snap an order at him as she had done so long ago in the Woodland realm.

The night came and went, and as the sun rose blood-red over the horizon, Legolas paused.

"A red sun rises. Blood has been spilt this night."

Tauriel closed her eyes. "May the Valar protect them."

The sun climbed higher into the sky, beating down at them mercilessly. Even Aragorn was beginning to falter. Legolas displayed no signs of weariness, and Tauriel was silently thanking the many, many hours spent training hundreds of years ago. Despite all the time that had passed, her body was still in near-perfect condition.

Sometime around midday, the sound of hooves reached her ears. She halted abruptly, glancing at Legolas to see if he had picked it up as well. He too had paused.

The steady drumming grew, and she could tell by the force of the hoofbeats that they were carrying extra weight – weight that was more than likely added on by fully-armed warriors.

"Riders," she snapped, and quickly moved towards a group of large boulders. The others followed her, pressing their bodies tightly against the rocks. Aragorn watched as the group of armed horsemen thundered past, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully, then moved into view. Tauriel hissed a warning, cursed as he ignored it, and rushed out after him with an arrow ready to draw on her bow.

"Riders of Rohan!" Aragorn called, barely glancing at the others as they gathered around him, "what news from the Mark?" Tauriel tensed as a signal rang out and the horsemen swung around to rush back up the slight incline.

Slowly, they began to circle around the remaining members of the Fellowship, the ring of horses cutting closer and closer to them. Spears were lowered, and unconsciously one of Tauriel's hands drifted towards the daggers on her belt.

"What business does two men, two elves, and a dwarf have in the Riddermark?" a man whom she assumed to be the leader demanded. "Speak quickly!"

"Give me your name, Horsemaster, and I shall give you mine," Gimli growled.

The man handed his staff to another rider and dismounted. Out of the corner of her eye, Tauriel saw Aragorn place a hand on Gimli's shoulder.

"I would cut off your head, dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground," the man said with a condescending lilt to his voice.

Tauriel hissed through clenched teeth, and without conscious thought an arrow was nocked and drawn on her bow. With a jolt of surprise, she saw that Legolas had done the same. "You would die before your stroke fell!" she hissed. Anger was flooding her, at his careless treatment of a being just because it was a dwarf.

Aragorn froze for a moment, then slowly raised a hand. "Enough. I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Gimli, son of Gloin, Boromir of Gondor, and Tauriel and Legolas of the Woodand realm. We are friends of Rohan and of Theoden your king.

The man sighed, then slid off his helmet. "Theoden no longer recognizes friend from foe. Not even his own kin."

The spears were lifted away, and there was a subtle lightening of the atmosphere.

"Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over these lands. My company are those loyal to Rohan, and for that we are banished. The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there, they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked. And everywhere his spies slip past our nets."

"We are not spies," Aragorn said calmly. "We track a party of Uruk-hai westward across the plain. They've taken two of our friends captive."

"The Uruks are destroyed," the man said flatly. "We slaughtered them during the night."

"But there were two hobbits. Did you see two hobbits with them?" Gimli demanded.

"They would be small – only children to your eyes," Boromir put in.

"We left none alive. We piled the carcasses and burned them." He turned slightly, pointing to a stream of smoke in the distance.

"Dead?" Gimli rasped.

The man nodded. "I am sorry. "

Tauriel placed a hand on the dwarf's shoulder, bowing her head slightly.

The man turned and whistled shrilly. "Hasufel! Maron! Arod!" There was the light dance of hooves over the turf, and three horses trotted near. There was a bay, a slim grey, and a hulking black stallion that Tauriel was instantly drawn to. "May these horses bear you too better fortune than their former masters," the man continued. "Farewell."

He replaced his helmet and swung into the saddle as Tauriel grasped the three sets of reins, then paused.

"Look for your friends. But do not trust to hope, for it has forsaken these lands. We ride north!" he called to the riders, and then the steady rhythm of hooves had resumed. Within moments, they had sped away.

Tauriel looked steadily into the horses' eyes, quickly assessing the attitude and stamina of the three mounts. The bay was lithe and lean, all corded muscle and clean lines. The grey was slighter built, with an barrel that surely held a strong set of lungs. She pursed her lips, then handed the bay off to Aragorn and the grey to Legolas, then turned back to the black.

"Hello, _mellon_ ," she murmured, caring not that she would have to share the saddle with one of the others.

The horse bared its teeth, and suddenly its head was snaking forward in an attempt to take a chunk out of her arm. She swayed to the side, stepping slightly away from the animal.

"You will suit me well," she said dryly, patting the stallion's nose.

There was a moment of silence.

"I'm not riding that thing," Gimli said flatly.

* * *

 **I had fun writing this chapter. I will be shooting to make each chapter a little longer, with more scenes included, with more variety in the characters - i.e., this chapter I threw in some Eowyn, Arwen, and Lord Elrond.**

 **As always, updates will come ASAP.**

 **Reviews are love! :)**


	16. Turning of the Tide

**I finally finished editing this chapter! I am so sorry for the wait, y'all. Things have been absolutely insane. Thank you all for bearing with me!**

 **jana349, I enjoy writing Arwen's character. :) I always was a bit annoyed that, in the movies, she was essentially there only for an aspect of romance.**  
 **pk61, I can't blame Gimli, to be honest, haha! Demon horses should be avoided at all costs. :p**  
 **moonryder, glad you enjoyed that. I have always loved Gimli's arguments with Legolas.**  
 **guest, haha! I'm imagining Legolas's expression as he pouts over that and laughing like a loon over here.**  
 **Warriorheart5, here is your Gandalf scene! I am not sure how long it will be before I include flashbacks from when Boromir and Tauriel rejoined the others, but I do have them written and ready. ;)**  
 **JordanluvzHobt, glad you enjoyed it!**

 **So, without further delay, here is the next chapter! Please excuse any spelling and grammatical errors, this was written on a phone, and historically phones hate me.**

* * *

Tauriel stood quietly to one side, watching as Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas pushed their way through the piles of scorched armor. Boromir crouched several yards away, running a finger across a charred belt and dagger sheath.

"It's one of their belts," he murmured, glancing upward.

Tauriel refused to meet his gaze. It was in times like these that she felt alone in the Fellowship – Legolas argued frequently with Gimli; Aragorn remained close to Boromir – but her fragile truce with them all often left her feeling remote from the events that had transpired. She stayed on the fringes, asking questions, answering them, but never fully immersed herself into conversation.

Legolas bowed his head as he approached with Aragorn and Gimli. " _Hiro îth ab 'wanath_."

Aragorn fingered it briefly, then stormed away. He paused, then kicked a helmet, roaring something unintelligible. He stopped, breathing heavily, then fell to his knees.

"We failed them," Gimli said bluntly.

Aragorn shifted slightly to the side, looking hard at marks in the dust. "Tauriel." She obligingly approached, wondering what was so important about these particular marks. "A hobbit lay here, and the other," Aragorn said softly.

Tauriel froze, wild hope flashing through her. She knelt at his side, trying to recall what she knew about tracking. She looked at the scuff marks, frowning as she concentrated.

"They crawled," she bit out, barely able to form the words, and focused even more on the tracks.

Aragorn traced the rim of the dirt where an elbow had stabbed deep. "Their hands were bound, as well."

Tauriel emitted a small gasp, rolling a piece of thick rope up between her fingers. "Their bonds were cut, Aragorn. They ran over here, but they were followed." She closed her eyes briefly, reaching for an image, but none came.

"The tracks lead away from the battle -" Aragorn rushed forward, oblivious to the great trees rising up before him, then stopped abruptly. " - into Fangorn Forest."

The five gathered tightly together, gazing up at the ancient trees before them.

"Fangorn," Gimli breathed. "What madness drove them in there?"

Tauriel stepped forward, holding her breath. Before her loomed a single, gargantuan tree-trunk. Slowly, very, very slowly, she brushed her finger tips against the trunk.

When nothing happened, she exhaled deeply, then pressed her palm fully against the rough bark.

In a single heartbeat, something clicked, slipped into place within her mind. Inside her, the tree wept. Memories, images, nightmares, heartrending wishes, and _longing_ . . . a terrible longing for something she could not understand. It all passed within an instant, and yet it had seemed to last a thousand years.

A moment passed, and then her palm clenched over the tree's bark, her other hand tightening by her side as her back arched, her mouth opening in a silent scream.

For the tree was no longer whispering of its past.

It was speaking of hers.

* * *

 _The elfling rolled her eyes, amused despite herself. The dagger had sunk almost hilt-deep in the soft, supple wood of a young sapling. She scrambled forward, reaching for it, preparing herself for another throw, when a hand snatched her by the back of her tunic and dropped her neatly on the ground._

 _"You are forbidden to play in the forest," the ellon said, the lilt of his rich voice deceptively calm. "And above all, we do not harm the woodland."_

 _The elleth stumbled slightly, but quickly recovered her balance. "I care not," she said stubbornly, refusing to be intimidated._

 _He knelt at her side, his eyes level with hers. Their gazes - green and grey - caught and held, silent sparks flying between them._

 _And, to her surprise, the ellon looked away first. He blinked, and she swallowed a giddy laugh at this small triumph. There was a moment of silence, and it occurred to her that there was something – wrong with this elf. She looked at him hard then, and though she was young and he was old, he felt as if she was staring through his soul._

 _"Why are you scared of me?" she asked, her question entirely innocent and yet chillingly accurate._

 _A flash of quick-silver, and then it was gone as his lids slid closed to mask the pain. "You are a daughter of this woodland. My line has no chance of governing the forest as long as so much as a drop of your blood remains. I do not fear you now. I fear what you may become."_

 _She studied him curiously. "Why?"_

Pain then and pain now, burning, burning . . . _"Your mother was born of Shadow, but your father was born of Light. You carry both in your blood, and the call to the forest will sing stronger than the sea." He rose, looming above her in the lengthening shadows. "Goodbye, little one. We will meet again."_

 _She blinked, just once, and he was gone, leaving her to wonder if he had ever been there at all._

* * *

Tauriel choked on a scream, trying to peel her fingers away from the trunk of the tree. Her skin was flashing red-hot, her muscles clenching with each wave of memories as they washed over her. Gimli shouted something, but his words were lost in the past. Aragorn and Boromir reflexively drew their swords, preparing to step forward to her.

Legolas stopped them. "No," he murmured. "It will do no good. The tree is telling her something. To pull her away now can cause immeasurable damage."

Gimli glared, his fingers sliding on the handle of his ax. "The lass look ill to me."

Boromir nodded in agreement. "Aye. I do not wish her to come to harm."

Legolas glanced at them, then stepped lightly forward. As he neared the tree, he saw the deep rents in the trunk, saw Tauriel's hand clenching until the bones shone white through the skin. She could not speak, could not even remove her palm from the bark. He hesitated, then slowly placed a hand on her arm.

Instantly, he drew back, shocked despite himself. Her skin was flaming against his fingers, the heat passing through the cloth covering her arm and into his hand.

 _I have never seen anything like this before,_ he thought, and though he tried to push it down, he was worried. He braced himself, not knowing what else to do, and gripped her arm tightly. His face contorted slightly as, with great effort, he ripped her skin away from the tree. Something shifted in the air, and Tauriel sagged to the ground, her face ashen, her eyelids fluttering wildly.

"Tauriel," he breathed, crouching beside her. "Are you well?"

Her eyelids flew open, a hand snaking out and clenching onto his arm. "I am sorry," she whispered. "I am so sorry. I never meant to . . ."

He frowned, shaking her grip free. "Do what?"

"I have done things," she breathed, her eyes wild. "Things I never should have done, never should have even thought about. _I have killed_ , Legolas."

He stood, looking down at her with mingled confusion and anger. Everything was flooding back, now, and once again he felt something dark rise up inside him as he thought about her betrayal.

"I do not wish to hear of them," he said coldly. "If you are well enough, get up. If not, one of us will have to stay here. We go into the forest in search of the two hobbits."

She rose, staggering slightly as she gained her feet. Opening her mouth, she shook her head as if to clear it, then gestured vaguely to the tree. "They are in there," she rasped, then cleared her throat. "Fangorn will neither harm nor protect them; the only ones it holds hatred to are those who strive to destroy it."

He eyed her curiously. "What exactly did the tree speak of?"

Tauriel froze, her eyes flickering dangerously. "It showed me – things. Things that it has seen, things that it fears. And – things that I have done, choices I have made." She shivered. "I relived it all."

Legolas stepped back, and as she looked at him she saw shadows of his father in the grey of his eyes; the set of his jaw and the thinness of his lips. It hurt to even look at him, now. Now that she had seen it all again, seen everything she had done wrong and watched as she tore him apart from inside.

"Good," Legolas said icily. "Perhaps you will consider what you should do better in the future."

He turned away, his shoulders set stiffly. She stood there for several moments in the shadow of the massive trees, wondering if she could ever earn his forgiveness, and if she even wanted to. It was so much easier to be cold and uncaring towards those she cared for, instead of letting herself love them and then accidentally hurting them.

She knew she loved him. She just wasn't sure if she _should_.

* * *

Gimli spat in disgust, flinging the dark-stained leaf aside. "Orc blood," he growled.

Aragorn knelt, his eyes tracing a set of tracks they had found and followed. "These are strange tracks," he murmured.

Gimli swiveled in circles, his eyes darting from side to side. "The air is so close in here."

Tauriel glanced at him. "This forest is old. Very old. Full of memory and anger. The pain here is great, for this woodland has suffered much."

Gimli eyed her oddly, then flinched slightly as the trees groaned and screamed, their branches grinding together as the sound hummed in the air.

"The trees," Tauriel breathed. "They are speaking to each other."

Legolas whipped around to face her. "Can you understand them?" he demanded.

She reached out with her mind, trying to break the walls between the herself and the woodland. It weakened slightly for a moment, then surged back full-force.

"No," she faltered, straining against it even as she spoke. "They – they are strange to me. I do not – do not have the same connection with this woodland as I had with the Greenwood." She blinked sweat from her eyes. "I am sorry."

Legolas's face darkened slightly, but he nodded. "Very well."

"Gimli!" Boromir hissed suddenly.

Gimli grunted something, likely a question.

Boromir gestured something, to no avail. Aragorn, who was considerably nearer to the dwarf than Boromir was, muttered, "Lower your ax."

Gimli frowned, then did so. "Oh."

Legolas's eyes flickered in the half-light. _"Aragorn, Tauriel, nad nâ ennas!"_

" _Man cenich_?" Aragorn hissed.

An image flashed before Tauriel's eyes, a figure standing proudly amongst shadow, wreathed in light. "The White Wizard approaches," she whispered, and horror flashed over the others' faces.

Aragorn glanced at her, measuring the truth of her words. Her eyes were slightly glazed, a look that she often got when she grasped pieces of the future. He did not know her well, but he had come to trust her.

"Do not let him speak," Boromir rasped, accepting her words. "He will put a spell on us."

Tauriel closed her eyes, heard the slight whisper of air as Legolas nocked an arrow on his bow, heard the slight squeak of skin on metal and wood as Boromir, Aragorn and Gimli wrapped their hands tighter around their weapons. She reached, strained for something, anything that could help them.

"We must be quick," Boromir said under his breath, and she sensed the others nodding.

The air shifted.

The four swung around, their weapons on course to kill.

Something flashed in her mind, a face she _knew_.

" _No_!" she screamed, her eyes flying open.

The weapons fell, then flew to the ground. The sword still in Aragorn's grasp began to burn white-hot, twisting and scalding his hands. He dropped it, shielding his eyes. Tauriel was silent, her mind spinning, trying to make sense of this convoluted mess, for this could not be true.

"You are tracking the footsteps of two hobbits," the White Wizard said.

"Where are they?" Aragorn asked.

"They passed this way the day before yesterday. They met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?"

"Who are you?" Boromir demanded. "Show yourself!" The white light was still too strong to focus on.

The White Wizard chuckled slightly. "Perhaps Tauriel can inform you exactly who I am."

They all turned to her, eyes still shielded. She opened her mouth, almost choking on the word. "It's – Gandalf."

The light dimmed, revealing Gandalf standing on a stone, his robes pure white. Shocked, Aragorn gave him a cursory bow. "It cannot be. You fell."

"Through fire and water," Gandalf said, and an image flooded over Tauriel. He was battling the beast of fire, fighting to the death. "From the lowest dungeon to the highest peak, I fought with the Balrog of Morgoth."

In her mind, Tauriel saw him raise his sword, Glamdring, saw it flash lightning and then strike into the Balrog's chest. The beast roared, it's fire failing as it fell into the snow below.

"Until at last, I threw down my enemy and smote his ruin upon the mountainside – "

Tauriel blinked rapidly, and finally succeeded in dispelling the images.

" – But darkness took me. I strayed out of thought and time. Stars wheeled overhead and every day was as long as a life-age on earth. But it was not the end. I felt life in me again." He paused, meeting Tauriel's gaze. "I've been sent back until my task is done."

"Gandalf!" Gimli breathed, still shocked into near silence.

"Gandalf? Yes – that's what they used to call me," he mused. "Gandalf the Grey. That was my name." He smiled, his eyes twinkling cheerfully. "I am Gandalf the _White_. And I come back to you now at the turn of the tide."

* * *

"One stage of your journey is over," Gandalf said, striding through the dappled sunlight. "And another one begins. War has come to Rohan. We must ride to Edoras with all speed."

Tauriel slipped into the sunlight, into the world beyond the darkness of the trees and their great pain. She watched as the others followed, and Gandalf raised a hand for silence. He whistled, the note falling low and then rising up and echoing in the distance. It hummed in her very blood, awakening a hunger for something she could not understand.

Beyond the waving grass, a horse neighed, and within moments its white form could be seen galloping towards them. As her eyes focused, Tauriel gasped, then heard Legolas's intake of breath behind her.

"That is a Mearas," she whispered, "unless my eyes are cheated by some spell."

The horse slowed, its mane rippling down across the arched neck.

"Shadowfax," Gandalf said affectionately. Behind him, Gimli bowed, and Tauriel dipped her head, wonder written over her face. "He's the lord of all horses and he's been my friend through many dangers."

Tauriel turned to Gandalf, a sudden wave of affection flooding her. He looked at her, a smile crinkling his mouth and the corners of his eyes. He was here, not lost, and though she had once despised him, that particular emotion was long gone.

" _Mellonamin_ ," she whispered. "Thank you."

He smiled at her again, and the sun shone and, for a moment, she could forget the rising Shadow.

The tide had turned.

* * *

 **Hopefully, the next chapter will be up soon! I am also taking requests on scenes y'all would like to see, or conversations, ect. :) Feel free to ask and share!**

 **Reviews are treasured!**


	17. Scars

**Chapter seventeen! I am a bit ashamed to admit that this is something of a filler chapter, and not up to my usual standards. I have a lot going on at work right now, and realized that I was either going to have to publish this unedited or wait another week or two**.

 **I don't have time to respond to every single review right now, but I will cover the biggest subjects. Thank y'all so much for your awesome support!**  
 **Sounds like Gandalf's connection with Tauriel was a hit, as well as the "tree-talk." ;)**  
 **Legolas being hard on Tauriel I have explained in a long AN at the bottom of this chapter.**  
 **And the drinking scenes? Heck yeah, I am doing that! Should make for some interesting conversations, LOL! I am not sure yet who will win, ect., but trust me, I am not skipping that scene! :p**

 **On to the chapter!**

* * *

The Elvenking sighed, shaking himself from years long-past as a drop of dew might slide from a leaf.

"What is it?" he demanded of the elf, who was currently wringing his hands together hard enough to turn them slightly pink.

The elf paled at his tone, despite the fact that he had not even put a shred of effort into making it sound harsh.

"My lord." He bowed, then gulped - hard. "I bring reports of the Fellowship from the Lady Galadriel and several notes from Lord Elrond about the elf Audriel."

Thranduil was silent for a long moment. So still was he that he vaguely resembled a statue, his skin pale against the black of his robes.

"Give them to me," he finally said, and his tone could have frozen the very air they breathed.

The elf nodded frantically, shifting a pile of parchment to one side as he took the pieces he needed and hurriedly held them out.

Thranduil took them, a terrible dread rising up in his heart. _Legolas . . ._

Galadriel had much to say, it seemed, and he was half-tempted to crush the mound of fine paper into dust with one hand as he skimmed through the words.

And finally, _thank the Valar_ , he found what he was looking for.

Legolas was well. More than well, it seemed, for he had found love once again. The words took a moment to penetrate, for at first he was filled with gladness, and then the world stilled. Everything was frozen as the Elvenking stared at the piece of parchment in utter horror.

Legolas had found love again.

 _No,_ his mind screamed. _No, no, no, no . . ._

 _She_ was there. He knew that. But was her identity not hidden from his son? Rage filled him, turning his blood to fire. _Audriel had said she was hidden!_

He pushed it all down and turned back to the elf. Replaced the mask and hid behind it, portrayed nothing but strength, hid the fact that, inside, he was crumbling.

"Leave me," he said coldly, and then, after a moment, dismissed the guards.

A heartpulse after they were gone, he let the mask slide away. Let his anger rise up and take root. He focused on Galadriel's words, searching for anything of use.

 _She wears a mask. They are ignorant of who she truly is, it seems. She is a fighter, and I fear for her in this feeble ray of light in which she stands. If she turns to Shadow, much will be lost. Seeds of hope have taken root in your son's heart. He believes that he has left Tauriel behind, that his heart has healed as he learns to love who he believes to be Seena_.

He stopped.

 _Seena._

So that was the name she had taken. He groped for memories, searching for something that could help him understand. Audriel had been nothing but a mystery to him from the start, her daughter even more so. He had long ago stopped grinding his teeth over the missing pieces, at least until Tauriel came of age and started asking questions that should have been left in the shadows.

Legolas did not have a fickle heart, he knew. He trusted few and loved even fewer. The fact that he let Seena - _Tauriel_ \- in once more said much.

There was something about her that drew his son in, despite the fact that her her identity was hidden. Like his father before him, Legolas was becoming ensnared in the trap the red-haired elleth had so carefully laid, though whether it was by design or not Thranduil could not discern. And this time - this time there might be no going back.

When Tauriel had left, she had torn Legolas's heart from his chest. Even in the few brief minutes Thranduil had spoken with him, he could see it. Could see the ache in his son's eyes, and felt it as deeply as if it had been his own.

He _knew_ what it was like. Audriel had seen to that.

At first, he was worried that Legolas would fade. He held his breath, hoping desperately that the bond he felt towards Tauriel was not quite strong enough, and was eventually rewarded. He did not fade.

But he did leave. Left the woodland, and Thranduil sensed that he was trying to leave his past behind as well. By Legolas's letters, it had done little to help. Several years later, against his better judgment, Thranduil lifted the banishment on Tauriel, making sure his son knew, though he made no effort to locate her whereabouts.

He shook himself, a voice whispering in his ear that he had to find one of them, mother or daughter he cared not. Find them and tell them to end the nightmare.

The line was poison. Everything they touched withered and died. Blood, the color of their hair, stained their fingertips and yet they made no effort to wash it away.

He had to do something. Had to stop this before it went to far once more.

But. . .

There was something wrong. _Something_ in the very back of his mind that told him he could only do so much before his carefully laid plans crumbled, and that he should leave it alone and hope that Legolas was not entirely blind.

And so he stood there in the silence, mind whirling, his crown of wood sitting upon his head and his face proudly set.

 _Maybe - maybe you are not entirely correct about Tauriel_ , the voice whispered. Thranduil pondered over it for several moments, for the idea was now so foreign that he could barely comprehend it. Maybe he should let his son's love bloom. The risk was impossibly high, and yet . . .

Mayhap Tauriel was not quite like her mother. For one brief instant, he was wildly, insanely hopeful that she was not, for all he truly wanted was for his son to find peace.

Miles away, a tree groaned, gasping out its last breath as it fell to the ground.

In his walls of stone, Thranduil flinched as if it had been a slap in the face.

* * *

Tauriel stared into the fire in silence. The crackle of the flames helped to wipe away all concept of passing time. The flickering fire was, at least, a constant.

Across from her, Boromir shifted uncomfortably.

She glanced up at him momentarily, then cast her eyes downward.

"Tauriel," he muttered.

His voice was incredibly reluctant, but she had been expecting it. Boromir was unable to fully wipe away emotions from his character, despite his best efforts. There were always small things that alerted her - the constant flexing of his fingers, the way his gaze would slide away from her own.

"Aye?"

"Legolas - " Boromir stopped, a flush creeping up his face as he clenched his hands into fists. "Legolas cares for you, in his way."

Tauriel almost laughed, forcing herself to ignore the sudden jump in her chest. As it were, she was unable to choke down her acidic words. "He shouldn't. If you truly knew what I have done, you would be entirely set against me as well." The fact that he was defending Legolas to her - when it really should be the other way around - was terribly ironic.

Boromir regarded her with a mixture of somber concentration and uncertain disbelief. "I have yet to hear the truth from either one of you."

"Aye. If I believed I could tell you without destroying everything I have reached for, I would. And -" She hesitated. "Perhaps I am reluctant to endanger our friendship."

Across the licking flames, Boromir looked up abruptly, a frown creasing his brow.

"It has been many years - or perhaps decades - since I have been able to kindle a friendship with anyone. At least, not one that I could ever continue." She thought briefly of Aneana and the strange circumstances surrounding their meeting, then pushed it from her mind. "Out of the few friends I have made in my life of almost seven centuries, only one stands with me now. Cahaldriel, Adreh, Legolas - _Kili_ ," she choked out. "Even Arwen has slowly fallen away from me, though she does not know it."

Slowly, carefully, Boromir said, "My heart says that if you truly valued my companionship, you would tell me the truth."

Tauriel met his gaze, her eyes flickering oddly in the firelight. "I no longer can distinguish truth from lie, Boromir. So much of my life was a lie, woven strand after strand by others. I was entangled in the web, though for a long time I fought to free myself. I lost much, and surely took even more. Even now, it hurts to think about what I have done, for my actions are unforgivable."

"You have scars," Boromir said softly.

She looked away. "Aye."

He nodded calmly. "As do I. Give them time. I must do the same, for though mine are surely smaller in size than yours they will take years to fade."

Tauriel met his gaze, her eyes abruptly shards of green glass. "Some scars do not fade," she said flatly, leaning forward. She paused for a moment, then slowly bared her wrists. "This - this is a piece of the truth I have long tried to deny and hide away. It has lain too long in the shadows."

Boromir examined the thin white lines that cris-crossed her skin, and though he was not close enough to clearly see the marks he knew what they were.

"I can only imagine the darkness you fell into," he said roughly.

She appraised him through heavy-lidded eyes, trying to shield the piece of her heart that she kept locked away, for it was still raw and bloody.

"I fell. Fell into Shadow, and though it was my destiny to fall, they also said I would rise again. Except - I cannot see how I will ever pick up the pieces. So much of what I had done was to try and protect myself, to shield myself from Shadow, and yet all I ever did was hasten it forward. I look back now and see all I did wrong, scream through the nights in which I do sleep. I try so hard to make amends, but it is never enough, and perhaps it shouldn't be. Mayhap it is my curse, to have every word and action come back to haunt me." She shivered. "The nightmares are the worst. I see every heart I have touched, laid out before me, ready to be crushed into dust. I try to stop myself, and against my will I reach out and destroy them all."

Boromir was silent for a long moment. "I am sorry," he said roughly.

Tauriel closed her eyes, then opened them. "Thank you."

He met her gaze levelly, and in a rare surge of affection, she almost wanted to hug him. "There is no need for thanks. You have surely pulled me from the darkness. I can only try to do the same for you." He paused. " _Mellonamin_."

And she smiled.

* * *

 _Audriel faced her sister with blood flowing from a multitude of wounds, a predatory grin stretching her lips._

 _"Thank you, sister," she said. "But the time has come for you to give me back my daughter."_

 _Aruelle's face hardened. "I am afraid I am willing to do no such thing, Audriel. Seena is mine, now, loves and trusts me and me alone. You gave up your hold on her life the moment you placed her in my arms."_

 _Audriel snarled, the sound harsh and almost feral, blood flying from her mouth. "She is_ my _daughter," she spat. "Not yours, now or ever."_

 _Aurelle stared at her for a moment, her green eyes - identical to Audriel's - filled with a mix of pain and indecisiveness. Something fell into place as she gazed at Audriel, and she turned._

 _"Seena," she called._

 _Audriel recoiled. Fear flashed hot and bright in her eyes, a terrible certainty that Seena would indeed pick Aruelle._

 _The child danced her way through the clearing, her feet bare and her hair rippling in wild red waves around her. She halted at Aruelle's side, a small hand reaching for her mother's wrist - at least, who she believed to be her mother._

 _Seena stared quizzically at the elf in front of her, taking in the slim, wiry form and the deadly beauty of her face even though it was smeared with blood and gore._

 _"Who are you?" she asked warily._

 _Audriel froze for an instant, then slowly knelt. "Your mother," she said simply, "though I fear you will not believe me."_

 _Aruelle stiffened at the bald affection in her sister's voice. Seena looked up at her, a question clear on her face._

 _"It is up to you to decide, my dear," she said evenly, and gently removed the girl's hand from her wrist as she stepped away._

 _Seena stared at Audriel. "I do not know if I should believe you. You look like my_ nana _, you know, but you seem very different."_

 _Audriel stiffened slightly. "We are sisters," she said softly. "The one who you call_ nana _and I. She has been looking after you for me."_

 _"Why?"_

 _Her face contorted. "I had to do - things."_

 _Her words came out harsher than she had intended, and the girl stepped away, clearly making up her mind and settling on the easier and more probable of the two options. "I don't think you're telling the truth. I know who my_ nana _is, and it's not you."_

 _Audriel reached for her, desperately trying to delay what she had always known was inevitable. "Wait!"_

 _"Don't touch me." Seena jerked away, and though Audriel recognized the tone and the fear of a strangers' touch, for it was the same fear that had often filled her, the desperation her daughter had to_ get away, no matter what _, hurt._

 _The girl turned, slipped and fell, but somehow a tree-branch was there, ready to break her fall._

 _Audriel froze, shock flitting over her features as she watched the girl run for Aruelle._

 _"The trees," she murmured. "They have chosen her over me." And suddenly she was burning with grief and rage and even jealousy, for this girl - her daughter - was going to get everything she had always wanted and never really had._

 _Aruelle approached once more, looked at her with something akin to pity. "I am sorry, sister."_

 _Audriel snapped. "You are not my sister," she growled, her face abruptly inches from Aruelle's. All we share is blood, and even then I do not know how much. I have no wish to see your face again, though I will listen for anything of importance. Take the girl, care for her, but if I ever hear so much as a whisper of her receiving ill-treatment, I will come and slit your throat."_

 _Aruelle flinched with every harsh word. "How will you know?" she whispered._

 _Audriel's lip curled. "The trees say much, if you are willing to listen."_

 _"Goodbye, sister," Aruelle said softly. "May the Valar watch over you." She looked at Audriel for a second longer, then turned and went back to the girl._

 _Audriel seethed in silence for a moment, then lashed out at the woodland._

 _"Why?" she hissed, her blade sinking deep into the bark. "_ Why her _?"_

 _The trees moaned softly, and she could feel their pain in her head._

She is your daughter _, they said simply._ She has the blood tie to our forest, will care for it as dearly as the Elvenking once did. She is our friend.

 _The tree's last word cut deep, and Audriel flinched as she removed her blade._

Then you can raise her up and teach her of her calling, for I do not wish to so much as see her face again. She is not my daughter anymore.

 _Numbly, she turned away, the savage rage burning red-hot as it pulsed through her._

 _"_ Tauriel _," she growled. "Her name should have been Tauriel."_

* * *

Aragorn stood, motioning for Tauriel to follow. She complied, avoiding Legolas's gaze as she did so. For some reason she could not place, she sensed that there was a seething pool of jealousy under his cool front, though why she did not know.

They neared the figure of Gandalf, who was staring off into the east. Tauriel looked at him, a silent question echoing through her mind.

"The veiling shadow that glowers in the east takes shape," Gandalf murmured. "Sauron will suffer no rival. From the summit of Barad-dûr, his Eye watches ceaselessly. But he is not so mighty yet that he is above fear. Doubt ever gnaws at him. The rumor has reached him. The heir of Númenor still lives."

Tauriel frowned, filing away this piece of information for later use and examination.

"Sauron fears you, Aragorn. He fears what you may become. And so he'll strike hard and fast against the world of Men," Gandalf continued. "He will use his puppet, Saruman, to destroy Rohan. War is coming. Rohan must defend itself, and therein lies our first challenge for Rohan is weak and ready to fall. The king's mind is enslaved, it's an old device of Saruman's. His hold over King Théoden is now very strong. Sauron and Saruman are tightening the noose. But for all their cunning we have one advantage. The Ring remains hidden. And that we should seek to destroy it has not yet entered their darkest dreams."

Tauriel frowned. "And so the weapon of the enemy is moving towards Mordor in the hands of a Hobbit," she murmured, stealing the wizard's words from his mouth. He met her gaze calmly, although there was a small spark of surprise at her civil tone. He was used to cutting remarks and acid glares from her, she remembered, and felt a flash of remorse.

"Aye," he said. "Each day brings it closer to the fires of Mount Doom. We must trust now in Frodo. Everything depends upon speed and the secrecy of his quest. Do not regret your decision to leave him. Frodo must finish this task alone."

"He's not alone," Aragorn said. "Sam went with him."

"Did he?" Gandalf said, pleased. "Did he indeed? Good. Yes, very good."

For some reason, Tauriel felt that he was holding something back, but pushed the thought was silence for a few moments, and then a smile broke out across Mithrandir's face. Once again, she was amazed at his ability to find good in everything.

"Come," the wizard said, almost disgustingly cheerful. "I believe I smell our supper."

* * *

 **I thought I would address a few things more in-depth for y'all. First off, if Tauriel and Legolas's emotions, attitudes and actions seem completely random, bewildering, and out-of-character, I apologize. However, there is a reason for all this, I promise. At this point in TBE, they are both trying to hate each other and failing miserably.**  
 **Thranduil, too, is very conflicted. The forest is literally dying under his hold, and he knows that Tauriel and Audriel are the only ones who can fix it. At the same time, his son has strong feelings for the elf that, from his point of view, betrayed them all. I will be exploring the connection between those two and the Greenwood more towards the end of this fic, however.**

 **So. Yeah. If anyone has any more questions, feel free to shoot me a PM or leave a comment. I will do my very best to respond, and if you do have a account it makes it much easier for me.**

 **Long, boring AN aside, I will update ASAP. Reviews are love!**


	18. Exhale

**Chapter eighteen! I apologize for any typos and grammatical flops in this one, it has received nothing but a quick once-over. It's also a bit shorter than I would have liked. Thank y'all so much for your support. Now, on to the reviews!**

 **ShAdowofMordo, glad you enjoyed it! It's my way of trying to add in some variety, instead of the same old, same old, haha!**  
 **Meredith2937, thank you! I plan on doing just that. ;)**  
 **Angel4Ever, you bet. :D I have quite a few planned out already.**  
 **shenanigans, wait and see. Trust me, I am practically rubbing my hands together and cackling with glee over this particular planned scene.**  
 **annie, glad you enjoyed it!**  
 **hobbitJunki, a bit of both. ;)**  
 **Warriorheart5, here ya go!**

* * *

Tauriel halted her stallion, feeling Gimli shift awkwardly behind her.

"Edoras," Gandalf said, "and the Golden hall of Meduself. There dwells Theoden, King of Rohan. His mind has long been over-thrown; Saruman's hold on him is now very strong."

Tauriel frowned, a trace of unease snaking its way down her spine.

"Be careful what you say," Mithrandir continued, his voice impassive. "Do not look for a welcome there."

A voice in the back of her head whispered that she had best prepare herself for a fight, that she should brace her mind and body for the battle that would come.

She didn't want to listen, weary as she was of the constant conflict within and around.

But, as always, she did.

* * *

Eowyn knelt at Theoden's side, her eyes flickering with both grief and rage. "My lord. Your son, he's dead. My lord? Uncle? Will you not go to him?" Her voice rose slightly, cracking as she fought to regain control. " _Will you do nothing_?"

As ever, there was no answer.

She ran.

Time passed slowly, trickling through the hourglass slowly, so very slowly. She moved as if she was in another world.

No, another life.

And then she was weeping, trying not to dampen Theodred's cold, dead skin.

There was the soft slam of a door, and then footsteps.

"Oh," someone said, and after a moment she recognized the voice as the vile Grima Wormtongue's. "He must have died sometime in the night. What a tragedy for the King to lose his only son and heir. I understand his passing is hard to accept, especially now that your brother has deserted you."

There was a slight pause, and then she felt him lower himself onto the bed. Another brief moment, and he placed a hand on her shoulder.

Eowyn choked on the bile rising up in her throat and flung herself away from him. "Leave me alone, snake!" she spat.

He smiled then, showing rotten teeth. Standing, he began to circle her, dark and poisonous and _disgusting_.

"Oh, but you are alone," Wormtongue said, his voice soft and grating upon her ears. "Who knows what you've spoken to the darkness in the bitter watches of the night, when all your life seems to shrink? The walls of your bower closing in upon you? A hutch to trammel some wild thing."

Eowyn choken on a flood of words, mostly curses, that would have been directed towards the man in front of her.

Grima raised a hand to her cheek, and she almost spilled her last meal up upon their feet.

"So fair," he murmured. "So cold. Like a morning of pale spring still clinging to winter's chill."

And then, slowly, slowly, his hand trailed down - down - down further than she was even remotely comfortable with, even if it had not been Wormtongue. She inhaled, then looked him straight in the eye.

"Your words are poison," she said flatly, refusing to let him see the fear in her eyes. She spun on her heel, exiting the room and then running, although what she was chasing she didn't know.

Minutes, hours later, she found herself outside, and a thrill of shock ran through her.

 _Riders!_

She almost blurted the word aloud, then caught herself. To one side, a flag was ripped from the flagpole by the wind and carried down to the gates through which the riders were coming through.

One of them hesitated slightly, then glanced up and met her eyes.

It was for but an instant, but it was enough to make hope flood through her.

She tried to crush it, but failed.

And then she was gone.

Running once more, but this time she knew what she was running to.

* * *

 _The trees were singing. The woodland trembled with their wordless music, and the very earth beneath her feet was humming._

 _She smiled, a tear sliding down her cheek as she threw her head back, arms spread wide. It had been years since she had stood here, in this forest, with nothing but joy and laughter in her heart._

 _Her lips bloomed in a smile, and though it was small and hesitant, her face transformed into eerie beauty. Red hair streamed down her back, rogue strands whipping across her pale cheeks._

 _Slowly, very slowly, she laughed. The sound was rich and melodious, echoing slightly in the softly trembling air._

 _The trees shook with laughter, rumbling gently all around her._

 _Someone else laughed._

 _She froze._

 _The sound was light and gleeful, and she sensed the trees reaching out to it with undisguised welcome._

 _A girl stepped forward, all awkward leanness and red hair. "Hello," she said, and her voice was husky._

 _She was frozen, motionless._

 _She could not think._

 _Could barely draw in breath._

 _The girl tilted her head to the side, green eyes curious. "Do I know you?"_

 _She shook herself, air rasping painfully into her lungs. "No," she said harshly, lying straight to her daughter's face. "You don't."_

* * *

"You'd find more cheer in a graveyard," Gimli grumbled, his words muffled slightly by Tauriel's hair.

She didn't answer him, her eyes fixed instead on the faces of the townsfolk. She saw no smiles, and few made eye contact with her.

It smells of fear and death, she thought, then pushed the thought down lest it show on her face.

They rode on, guiding the horses slowly through the crowded streets.

Once, a young boy, surely no more than five or six, dropped a ball. It rolled towards her horse's feet, and she reined him in, hoping the child was not daft enough to dive down and reach for his toy.

She dismounted, picking the ball up in one hand. It was crudely made, woven together with straw and scraps of leather. She met the boy's eyes, then held it out for him.

He froze, a curious range of emotions playing out across his face. _Fear, wonder, curiosity, apprehension, need . . ._ She listed them mentally.

The boy licked his lips, then spoke. "Thank you." His voice came out cracked and dry.

Tauriel nodded, once. "You are most welcome."

She held it out again, and he reached for it, but was jerked violently away by who she assumed was his mother.

"No," the woman snarled. "Don't take it."

Tauriel was frozen, her brows knotted in confusion at the anger in the stranger's voice. She met the woman's eyes, and saw that she was not a woman at all, but a girl, malnourished and wary and old beyond her years.

"Forgive me," she murmured. "I meant him no harm." She dropped the ball to the ground and backed away, mounting her stallion and glancing back again.

They stared after her, and as the girl - woman - looked her eyes inevitably found Tauriel's pointed ears.

Tauriel watched as the girl froze, horror washing over her face. She met the girl's gaze one more, and smiled.

Just for a brief moment, true, but she hoped it would be enough to assuage the young mother's fear.

Several minutes later, they were dismounted and walking up a flight of stairs that seemed much longer than it actually was.

Gandalf groaned lightly, leaning on his staff slightly more than usual. "Ah," he said, unsurprised, as guards appeared before them, blocking their way.

Tauriel positioned herself behind and to the side of the wizard, a casual hand resting on her daggers.

"I cannot allow you before Theoden King so armed, Gandalf Grayhame, by order of Grima Wormtongue." The speaker was neither young nor old, fair-haired and bulky.

Gandalf considered the order for a moment, then nodded to the rest. Tauriel hesitated, but willingly discarded her obvious weapons. She had been expecting something similar.

Thankfully, they did not order her to check her clothing. There were three throwing knives in her boots, two slipped into her sleeves - freed due to the fact she was no longer wearing her leather cuffs.

Boromir grumbled briefly, as did Gimli, but Aragorn and Legolas both complied willingly.

As the final weapon dropped to the floor, the guard gestured to Gandalf's staff.

"Your staff," he said politely.

"Oh, no," Gandalf said wearily, leaning even harder on it. "Surely you would not part an old man from his walking stick?"

The guard grimaced, but did not order the wizard to hand it over.

 _Fools_ , Tauriel thought, a smile playing around her mouth.

Gandalf met her eyes and then winked - _winked_ \- at her.

Legolas stepped directly behind her, his fingers brushing her shoulder and catching at her hair. She turned to him, mildly shocked and confused.

He tilted his head to one side, a question burning in his eyes. She frowned, and then it hit her.

She nodded, the movement almost nonexistent. His eyes flared with satisfaction, and she turned away as they stepped into the hall.

Immediately, her eyes were drawn to the end of the long room. Sitting upon his throne was a man, impossibly old and wizened. Her eyes flicked to the figure hunched over behind the King.

"My lord," the man said softly, his voice oily in the silence, "Gandalf the Grey is coming."

There was a brief moment of silence as they approached further, and then Grima bent down to the King's ear and muttered, "He's a herald of woe."

The King's milky eyes focused somewhat, but were still depressingly blurry. Tauriel stared at the hunched figure at Theoden's side, disgust flooding her.

"The courtesy of your hall has lessened somewhat of late, Theoden King," Gandalf said calmly, still approaching. Tauriel, Legolas, Aragorn and Boromir fanned out somewhat behind him, arms crossed. Gimli bared his teeth and spat viciously on the floor.

"He's not welcome," the hunched man hissed in Theoden's ear.

The wizened man opened his mouth and croaked, "Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow?"

"A just question, my liege," the man assured him. "Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear. Lathspell I name him. Ill news is a ill guest."

"Be silent!" Gandalf snarled.

Tauriel almost flinched at the harsh tones in which he spoke. His entire demeanor had changed, and suddenly she understood why so many regarded him with more than a little fear and great respect.

"Keep your forked tongue between your teeth. I have not passed through fire and water to bandy crude words with a witless worm."

 _"His staff!_ " the hunched man wailed, backing away. _"I told you to take the wizards' staff!_ "

Tauriel registered the sound of running feet, and knew that it was time. She whipped the blades from her sleeves, tossing them to Legolas, then drew the three in her boots, handing one to Aragorn and one to Boromir. To one side, Legolas tossed Gimli one of his knives, and the dwarf grinned darkly.

In but a heartbeat, the men were upon them. Tauriel flipped around, a wild snarl tearing from her lips as she blocked a blow and then dropped and rolled, aiming to slice through tendons at the back of the mens' heels. The blade was keen, and she watched with satisfaction as several of their opponents dropped, howling, to the floor.

She hesitated for a moment, realizing that she didn't need the blade, then stuck it in a man's calf and threw herself into what was quickly becoming a fist-fight.

Using her momentum to her own advantage, Tauriel threw a tight right hook and rolled forward as it connected. She stomped hard on the arch of another man's booted foot, then slammed her head into another's nose. It was ungraceful - appallingly so - but it worked.

She shook herself, then stepped away. To one side, two other men stood calmly, trying their best to ignore the fight.

She glanced back at the others, decided they were fine, and turned to focus once more on the wizard and the King.

Before she could do so, the hunched man who she had noticed earlier scrabbled away from her, desperately trying to remain unnoticed and failing miserably.

Her lips curled in a sneer.

With a single motion, she knocked the man from his feet and then hauled him up again by the collar.

He met her burning green eyes with more than a little fear, but then it changed and shifted, turning into a even more disturbing emotion: lust.

Tauriel felt bile rise up in her throat at the very thought, then threw the man towards what had once been a full-on brawl.

"Gimli," she called.

Gimli looked at her, grinned, and moved startlingly fast, knocking the foul man from his feet again and stepping on his chest. "I would stay still if I were you," he growled, and Tauriel grinned.

A rasping, choking gurgle came from behind her, and she turned. Theoden was laughing darkly, the sound echoing eerily through the air.

"You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey," he chuckled.

Gandalf paused, and then flung his gray cloak aside. Blinding white light poured from his robes, and for a moment she looked away.

Theoden screamed hoarsely, the sound panicked.

"I will draw you, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound," Gandalf snarled, and with a motion Theoden was slammed back into his throne.

From the side, there was a blur of motion and the flow of white cloth and gold hair. Acting on instinct, Tauriel reached for the figure, catching it in mid stride and forcing who she saw was a young girl to stop.

"No," she hissed.

The girl struggled for a moment, then sagged. Her eyes were huge as she looked at Tauriel, registering the fact that she was an elf, and that she was preventing her from reaching the king.

"I can't," the girl hissed in wild panic.

Tauriel shook her head. "Wait."

"If I go, Theoden dies," the King rasped. The girl's struggles increased, but Tauriel held her tight.

Gandalf threw him back again, fury radiating from him. "You could not kill me, you will not kill him!" he growled.

"Rohan is mine."

Another slam, another creak of wood. "Be gone!"

Theoden screamed, throwing himself at Gandalf. Mithrandir lashed out with his staff, and as Theoden slumped to the ground, Tauriel saw a bearded man dressed in white in her mind, sliding to the floor.

 _Saruman_ , she thought.

Releasing the girl, she watched as she ran to the King, her hair whipping behind her. The girl placed the man in his throne, watching as his face shimmered and changed, becoming younger even as they watched.

The girl smiled, though tears were sliding down her cheeks.

"I know your face," Theoden rasped. "Eowyn." He caressed the girl's face, his eyes bright. "And . . . Gandalf?"

Gandalf smiled. "Breathe the free air again, my friend."

"Dark have been my dreams of late," Theoden muttered, looking at his hands.

"Your fingers would better remember their old strength if they grasped your sword," Gandalf added, and suddenly one of the men whom had stayed away from the fight was stepping forward with a sword, long and finely wrought.

Tauriel stepped back then, moving towards Gimli and the snake of a man at his feet. The stranger struggled as she approached, fear and fear alone flashing through his eyes.

"I should slice your skin from your bones, piece by piece, and then feed it to you," Tauriel said coldly, and though it would be a harsh punishment she would have done it, and gladly. She bent at the knees, pulling her knife from her boot, and traced the skin of his neck with the blade.

 _Just a flick of my wrist_ , she thought. _And he would be dead._

"Tauriel," Gandalf said sharply, and she jerked in surprise. The knife caught the skin at the man's neck, beading with blood even as she drew it away, her hands shaking slightly, horrified.

For the first time in a long while, she had fallen back into her old ways, of pain and blood and darkness, of using others' pain to hide her own. She wiped the man's blood from the blade, fighting to maintain her mask of calm, and stepped away, avoiding the others' eyes.

It scared her that she could so easily step back into the past and make it the present.

Scared her that, in but another moment, she likely would have taken yet another life in cold-blood. There would have been no battle, and though she would kill without a second thought in war, she despised the thought of killing anyone as they lay helpless on the ground.

She grabbed the man by the collar, hoisting him to his feet.

"Do to him what you will," she said, her mind spinning wildly. She wanted - needed - to get away from this, to run from their sharp eyes and even sharper judgment.

She turned away and did not look back.

* * *

 **Mwahahaha! I apologize for the semi-cliffy.**

 **Anyways. I have a lot going on right now, and unfortunately it looks like update speed will be slowed down a bit. I am still shooting for at least one update every two weeks, hopefully more. ;) We have a LOT of action coming up!**  
 **I should also mention that this is going to be a slow burn - around fifty chapters or so, possibly more.**

 **'Till next time!**


	19. Flicker

**Finally - _finally_ \- got a chance to put this up! I am so sorry for the delay, y'all. Thank you guys so much for your support!**

 **Lucien, I could not agree more about the whole Wormtongue thing, trust me. Unfortunately, plots are plots, and killing him would have made a rather large plot hole. To make up for it, I killed him several times over in my mind, LOL.  
** **Warriorheart5, dragontales, Angel4Ever and MJTCat, glad you enjoyed it!  
** **fantasybooklover98 and sweetmochi, I have a special treat in this chapter for you. ;)  
** **annie, I do so love Gandalf! And LOL! She should be!  
** **guest, oh yes, so did/would I! When I first watched the movie, I was practically screaming at the screen for Eowyn to do _something_ , haha!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

She ran to the stables, pathetic though the action was, searching for solitude and trying desperately to fight down a scream of mingled rage and panic. They were old and filled with the familiar scent of horse sweat and the sweet tang of green apples, the air slightly musty. Tauriel slumped into a pile of grass hay, clenching her hands into fists at her sides.

 _Merely a flick of my wrist . . ._

Her head dropped to rest on her drawn-up knees, red hair spilling around her. She felt vulnerable, even with her back to a wall, and after a moment she lifted her face to the light once again.

A shout came from one side, and Tauriel's body tensed as she whipped around. Stablehands were rushing towards her, eyes fixed firmly on someone or something on her opposite side.

She frowned, not fully comprehending the situation, and turned her head.

A blood-bay stallion bucked and reared in turn, fighting wildly against the ropes holding him fast. Stablehands swung from his halter, fighting to keep their footing as they jerked harshly down on the horse's head.

Tauriel stilled for an instant, her eyes searching the stallion's face. Even with the distance that sepperated them, she could see the whites of his eyes rolling wildly and the desperate flaring of his nostrils as he struggled.

 _He is scared_ , she thought, and unfolded herself from the pile of hay.

"Leave him be."

Her words rose in anger, sharper than she had intended, though she did not regret it.

The men froze, staring at her in awe and fear, and she felt a twinge of annoyance. It was always this way, it seemed. Within moments, the horse was forgotten as they fairly fell to their knees in front of her.

"Milady," one muttered. She ignored him.

" _Fæste, stille nú mellon, fæste, stille nú. Lac is drefed, gefrægon._ " The words rolled smoothly from her tongue, soft and lilting as she looked the horse in the eye and begged him to understand.

The stallion merely stared at her, ears flicking nervously back and forth atop his head.

"Let him go," she murmured to the stablehands. They obligingly dropped the ropes, leaving them to dangle at the horse's feet.

His eyes rolled dangerously, and she remembered what so many horsemen said: _When the whites show, they've gone wild._ A twinge of desperation hit her. She wanted to help this animal, though she did not fully understand why.

No, she wanted to _heal_ him. To heal him as she thought she herself could not be healed.

" _Hwæt nemnað ðe? Hm? Hwæt nemnað ðe?_ " Tauriel whispered, not expecting the horse to answer. "What is his name?" Her words were directed towards the stablehands now standing respectfully to one side.

"Brego," one of the men said. "He lost his master but days ago and has been fair mad ever since."

She felt her heart crumple in her chest. "Go," she said flatly.

The stablehands exchanged glances, and despite their eagerness to please her before, they now seemed reluctant. She wondered briefly if this horse was important to someone, but dismissed the thought.

"Now." Her words were soft, but edged with poison, and a hand was straying dangerously close to her waist and the daggers that had been replaced there as soon as she had taken them from the guards.

They shuffled in silence for a moment, then turned and disappeared.

Tauriel's knees fairly buckled, sending her sprawling to the floor. The horse looked at her, and though he could not cry his eyes were large and dark and pain-filled.

 _He knows me. Somehow, he knows me_ , she thought, and forced herself to rise.

Once again, she felt a sort of connection, tugging her towards the stallion, urging her on.

 _Sianye'._

 _Memory._

 _Talagor._

 _Suldal._

 _I want to take him. I want to. But what if . . ._

Her thoughts trailed away. The big stallion the riders had gifted her with was strong and fleet-footed, but she did not suit him - he was all harsh lines and dark moods. He had come to no harm, as far as she knew, and was likely grazing in a field, as happy as he ever would be. Suldal was at Rivendell. But then she pictured Talagor slapping to the ground, blood gushing from his neck. She watched Sianye' heave and push and strain to let her foal into the world, and then saw her exhale for the last time.

Saw the dainty heads, red-gold coats and the brown eyes and the calm understanding in them and wanted to scream that she could not watch another innocent animal die at her hand.

The stallion groaned, head drooping low. He was hurting, she knew, and even though few thought that animals felt things, she knew better than most that if they could they would weep.

She ripped away the ropes and the headstall, searching for an empty stall that they could both rest in. Every inch of her body ached, not necessarily from exhaustion, but from feeling all the things she did not want to feel.

Wearily, she slipped inside the slightly sagging door. Brego followed her, muzzle nearly dragging on the ground. The straw in the stall was fresh and thick, and with a throaty sound the stallion sank to the floor. Powerful muscles bunched and pulled in his hindquarters, and yet at the same time he looked broken.

Tauriel placed a hand on his forehead. Incredibly, she felt calmer, and though few would dare to rest near such a unpredictable and heavy animal, she cared not. Joints popping painfully, she lowered herself to the ground and leaned against Brego's neck.

He opened his eyes for a moment, and the understanding in them fairly knocked the breath from her lungs. After a heartbeat, his head curled around and sunk into her lap.

Seconds ticked past, turning into minutes and then into hours. They had both given in to sleep.

Tauriel shifted abruptly, her mouth opening in a silent scream. Tears poured from beneath her closed lids, streaming down her cheeks and leaving hot, wet paths in their wake. Her dreams had turned dark and dangerous, poisoning her mind even as she slept.

 _I can't._

 _I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't ..._

* * *

Legolas slipped into the empty room fully expecting it to be just that - empty. Instead, he found himself face-to-face with Tauriel, an arrow nocked on her bow, eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

He hesitated for an instant.

She stared at him for a moment longer and slowly lowered the weapon. She blinked, her lashes catching the liquid brimming in her eyes and holding it, the teardrop glimmering like a diamond.

 _May the Valar help me_ , he thought, and instinctively reached out to comfort her.

She flinched away from his touch, and though the movement seemed purely accidental, it cut deep. They were both still, calculating, considering each other with sharp eyes.

The teardrop fell from her eyelashes, sliding half-way down the skin of her cheek and finally tangling in a rogue strand of hair.

He inhaled deeply and placed a hand on her arm. Her lips parted slightly in surprise, and suddenly he found himself holding her as she shook silently.

He was frozen.

It had been so long - _so very, very long_ \- since he had touched her in a way that was not a result of rage or grief. Awkwardly, he patted her shoulder with one hand, not entirely sure of what he should do - or of what he _wanted_ to do.

She smelled of the forest, strangely enough. Of wild flowers and moist earth and a fresh, pure tang he could not place.

 _She is still connected to the woodland_ , he thought absently, and unconsciously tightened his grip.

She stiffened abruptly, and Legolas could hear her pulse drop and then accelerate.

Slowly, calmly, Tauriel stepped out of his embrace and moved several feet away. Her eyes were a murky green as she stared at him, lashes still damp from the tears that he was not entirely sure she had even allowed to fall.

"I am sorry," she said. Her voice was perfectly composed, almost too much so. He knew full-well the near-emotionless facade was concealing a wild storm of emotions. He had seen it often enough on his father's face, and then many times on hers.

"There is no need to apologize. I understand that the previous . . . incident must have been disturbing."

Her gaze hardened, and he hid a wince. "No. You don't."

Not knowing what do do, despite many hours of lessons on etiquette in his youth, Legolas merely inclined his head.

She pivoted away from him, and abruptly he noticed a thin white line on her throat. It was small and slightly wavering, and almost certainly a scar.

And yet, he wondered, where would she have gotten it from? He knew that she had tried to slit her wrists, and though he was loath to admit it the knowledge had cost him many a night's sleep. He would lie awake in the silence trying to imagine the level of grief and despair she would have had to felt to even consider killing herself, and always cringing away from the fact.

Even now, he looked away from the small strip of silvery-white skin, barely visible in the smoothness of her natural coloring.

Tauriel raised her bow - he had almost forgotten she still had it - and nocked an arrow, sending it flying towards an unknown target in a heartbeat.

He wondered briefly if she would be able to best him. It had been many years since they had had a formal competition, and though she was likely more competent in the art of swordplay than he was, he had always held the upper hand with a bow and arrow.

He focused on the wall. It took a moment, and then he saw the incredibly small pieces of woven straw in the shape of an X.

He shook his head.

"I must say, your aim has failed considerably."

She swung around to face him, disbelief coloring her features, and then realized he was feigning his disgust.

Legolas unslung his own bow from his shoulder, quickly strung it, and nocked three arrows. In rapid succession, they hissed through the air.

The first hit slightly above the mark.

The second splintered the shaft of Tauriel's arrow.

The third was knocked from its flight by a streak of wood and feather-fletching.

He stilled, turning to face Tauriel. A eerily satisfied predatory smile played around her lips, and he could not quite decide if the sight was welcome.

She smirked at him.

"Indeed."

* * *

"Gandalf the White. Gandalf the _Fool_!" Saruman snarled, pacing back and forth. "Does he seek to humble me with his new-found piety?"

Wormtongue winced slightly, slinking to the middle of the room. "There were five who followed the wizard. A dwarf, two elves, and two men."

Saruman's lip curled. "You stink of horse." He stalked away. "The men. Were they from Gondor?"

Wormtongue picked up a cloth, holding it to his cracked lips. "One was. The other was from the North. One of the Dúnedain Rangers, I thought he was - his cloth was poor. And yet he bore a strange ring, two serpents with emerald eyes. One devouring, the other crowned with golden flowers."

Saruman strode over to a table, flinging aside fine parchment without a second glance until he found the book he wanted. "The Ring of Barahir. So Gandalf Greyhame thinks he has found Isildur's heir. The lost king of Gondor." The book slammed shut. "He is a fool; that line was broken years ago."

Wormtonue peeled the cloth from his mouth. "The elves. One was as I expected. But the other . . ." He hesitated, remembering the deadly gleam in the red-haired elf's eyes. "She was different. She smelt of the forest."

Saruman scowled. "And?" he demanded. "That is not so very strange. They have strong bonds with the land."

Wormtongue winced. "She had a strange magic on her. I fear I am unable to explain it. The other would have been called to the sea, if he had seen it. This one - she would have run to the woodlands."

"What did she look like?" Saruman was pacing feverishly again.

"Red hair. Green eyes. Beautiful in her own right." He carefully hid the fact that he considered her quite a bit more attractive than he let on.

Saruman swore violently and abruptly. "The hair! The hair. She should be dead. No, she is dead. I killed her long ago. How, then?"

Wormtongue flinched at his harsh tone. "I know not, my lord. She is a keeper of the land, that much I saw and felt."

Saruman spun abruptly. "Send for Esnilleth."

Wormtongue bowed himself out.

Saruman stood over the mound of parchment, searching through it with trembling fingers until he found the book he wanted. Leafing quickly through it, he stopped as a drawing of an elven pair of daggers caught his attention.

"It matters not," he muttered. "The world of Men shall fall. It will begin at Edoras."

* * *

Tauriel stood silently to one side, her ears focused entirely on the conversation that was going on beyond the closed doors. She felt no guilt at eavesdropping on this particular conversation. In the few days since Theoden had been called back to the Light, she had found that she did not entirely agree with him on certain views.

"I am ready, Gamling." The words were slightly muffled, and she frowned, moving closer. Keen her ears might be, but the wood separating her from the room was solid. "Bring me my horse.

There was a slight rustle. "Aye."

She pressed her back to a heavy drapery, heart beating disgustingly fast. She had no reason to fear being discovered, she told herself, and yet her palms were slick with sweat.

"This is not defeat."

She frowned and moved closer once more.

"We will return, I promise you."

A click of boots, soft and unimpressive, and then three more whispered words.

"We will return."

Tauriel waited a heartbeat longer and then spun, slinking mostly unobserved into a hall. Stepping lightly past a girl, she stopped, feeling that she knew the pale, fair-haired young woman.

Turning, a light frown on her face, she looked closer.

 _Yes_ , she thought. _It is her._ The oddly pretty, smooth-skinned face was the same, as were the finely arched eyebrows and the small nose.

"Eowyn."

The word fell heavier from her lips than she had intended, sounding oddly throaty. The girl spun, and Tauriel saw that there was a blade in her hand.

"You scared me," Eowyn said, eyes roving Tauriel's face.

Tauriel dipped her head. "I apologize." She hesitated, then nodded to the sword in the girl's hand. "You know how to use it, I presume?"

She nodded, spinning lithely into a series of under and overhand blows, blocks and stabs.

Tauriel glanced slightly to one side as Eowyn ducked and whirled directly towards Aragorn, who had been eyeing the proceedings for a minute or so.

The Ranger's blade caught the sword, halting it with a ring of metal.

Eowyn froze, eyes widening.

"You have some skill with a blade," Aragorn said.

Eowyn gathered herself, then disengaged her blade from his block and lowered it. "Women of this country learned long ago that those without swords can still die upon them." She wrapped it in cloth and placed it at her feet. "I fear neither death nor pain."

Aragorn tilted his head to one side. "What do you fear, my lady?"

Eowyn met his eyes coldly. "A cage. To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them, and all chance of valor has gone beyond recall or desire."

Aragorn considered her words for a moment and shook his head. "You are a daughter of kings. A shield-maiden of Rohan. I do not think that would be your fate."

He bowed and stepped to the side.

Tauriel remained motionless for a minute longer. She had not missed Eowyn's tell-tale blush as she looked at Aragorn, and felt a twinge of unease before pushing it aside.

She considered the girl's words once more, hearing them echo strangely in her mind.

 _I fear a cage as well._

* * *

 **See a familiar name in the scene with Saruman and the worm? ;) Another important piece of plot is hidden right there...**

 **Anyways. As always, I will update as soon as I possibly can. The next few chapters will be covering some of our favorite scenes in the the Two Towers! I am very excited to share them with you all. :D**

 **Reviews are love!**


	20. Fade Past

**Yay, chapter twenty! Can't believe how far I've gone on this! Thank you to everyone who took the time to leave a comment. I really appreciate it.**

 **Sal, I'm not sure if you're a new reader or not, but thank you for taking the time to leave a note! I'm so glad you have enjoyed it so far. Right now,  
the plot is complicated, and yet at the same time I feel like I could explain it in a few words. So yeah, it's complicated. :p  
** **willowtree and GreenTea2193, I thought it was time for at least a little progress. But it's one step forward, two steps back. In this case, it may very well be more than two steps. Also, Saruman does not actually fear Tauriel at this point in the fic- he fears who he thinks she is.  
** **guest, MarshMellow and IrvineGreen, glad y'all enjoyed that. ;)  
** **Warrior5 and crispybacon- yes, Tauriel gets Brego!  
** **P8rfectStorM, wait and see! At this time, it is not necessarily Tauriel who brings him down, but a lot of coinciding events. I'm planning something special for Tauriel in that general time-period. :D**

 **Anyways. N** **ot much goes on in this chapter. However, there are a few things important to the plot if you look carefully. Lots of Eowyn in this chapter, too. I decided I'd reveal a bit more than I had originally intended. Y'all noticed the reference to Esnilleth last chapter? Well, he's in SBI, too - and knew Tauriel. And yes, he ended up with a "girly" name. I thought it rather fitting for his character when I first wrote him out.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Tauriel swung herself up onto Brego's back, wincing slightly as several joints popped in ways they should not have. Several feet to one side, Eowyn paced back and forth over the packed dirt.

Spinning abruptly to face Tauriel, Eowyn paused. "Is that my cousin's horse?" she demanded.

Tauriel was silent for a moment, quickly shuffling through what she knew about the stallion. The pickings were depressingly slim. "I cannot say," she said shortly. "I know little other than his name."

Eowyn's eyes narrowed. "Brego."

"Aye. He was half-mad when I first saw him; the stablehands gave me leave to ride onward with him."

Eowyn pursed her lips, and Tauriel was mildly impressed at her composure. Many became incurably nervous around elves - even more so around Tauriel - and refused to meet their gaze or stand up for themselves.

The girl continued her nervous pacing for a minute before speaking again.

"Brego has been wild ever since Theod - my cousin was injured. He did not eat or quench what must have been a terrible thirst. He refused to let anyone touch him. I ordered him put out of his misery shortly before you all arrived, and he was surely on his way to calmer pastures when you found him. How you calmed him is something I can only guess; he cares for few and in his previous state he would have sooner thrown his rider off a cliff than allow himself to be restricted by ropes or harnesses."

Tauriel glanced down at the blood-bay. "He suits me well, then," she said.

Eowyn frowned. "Forgive me for prying, Tauriel, but what do you mean?"

"How did you learn my name?" Tauriel growled, feeling a spike of unnease.

"Boromir," Eowyn said in way of explanation, and Tauriel relaxed slightly. "He spoke of your part amongst your companions and said that you are likely sorely in need of someone to speak to."

Tauriel's lips thinned as she gritted her teeth. "I thank you for your offer, but I have spent enough time alone that I am not suited to others' company - albeit, perhaps, my companions - even at the best of times."

Eowyn drifted closer, her eyes piercing.

Tauriel looked away.

"You must be deeply unhappy to loathe all companionship," the girl said softly. "I can barely fathom it."

"I am perfectly fine," Tauriel snapped, more than a little disturbed at the truth in the girl's words.

"You think me young and naive, even for one born of the race of Men."

"Perhaps. More accurately, I do not see how you could even pretend to understand that you have felt anything remotely like my emotions at any given time."

"Were you ever happy?" Eowyn murmured, ignoring the harsh words that were being thrown at her.

Tauriel looked down at her hands as they bunched tightly in the strands of Brego's mane. "I was, once. The life I had is destroyed both through my own actions and those of others."

"I am sorry."

"Don't be," she said flatly. Brego shifted underneath her, and Tauriel spun him around. "I thank you for your offer," she said over her shoulder, "but no one deserves to be burdened with my past. I will leave it where it belongs unless it is truly necessary."

Eowyn nodded, her eyes big and disconcertingly sharp. "Very well, Tauriel. I will see you again soon."

Tauriel stared down, her eyes unfocused, for several moments before guiding Brego down the dusty road and onward to where the others were gathering.

* * *

"It's true, you don't see many dwarven women," Gimli said, his gruff voice carrying down the trail. Tauriel tried unsucessfully to block it out, then gave up and listened to the conversation. "And in fact, they are so alike in voice and appearance that they're often mistaked for dwarf men."

Eowyn smiled, though it looked like more of a wince, and glanced desperately back at Aragorn.

Aragorn mimed stroking his chin. "It's the beards," he mouthed.

Eowyn looked confused at first, her face clearing in comprehension after a moment.

Tauriel's mouth twitched.

"This, in turn," Gimli continued, oblivious, "has given rise to the belief that there are no dwarven women, and that dwarves just spring out of holes in the ground!" Eowyn laughed, the sound light as it floated on the breeze. Gimli joined her enthusiastically. "Which is, of course, ridiculous!"

Brego squealed abruptly, and then horse Gimli was on panicked, flying forward. Gimli lost his seat, tumbling to the ground.

Tauriel winced at the muted clink of his chainmail hitting the ground. Reining Brego in slightly, she maneuvered him to where Gimli lay on the ground.

"It's alright," he wheezed. "Nobody panic."

Eowyn gave him a hand up, still laughing.

Tauriel glanced back at Aragorn, who was unsuccessfully trying to smother his chuckles. She narrowed her eyes at him briefly, and he looked appropriately chagrined for several seconds.

Behind Tauriel, Gimli tripped over his ax and almost face-planted into the dirt. "That was deliberate. That was deliberate."

Aragorn started laughing again.

Tauriel shook her head in disgust, glad that he was light-hearted enough to laugh but wishing he would not always reap amusement from Gimli. The dwarf was not part of the Fellowship so that they could all take turns of watching him make a fool of himself.

Swinging Brego around, she trotted him up the line until she found Boromir. Sweat glistened on his face and forearms, which she found odd. The heat of the sun was minute, and the breeze helped even more.

Boromir shifted in the saddle, wincing.

Tauriel frowned. Her first thought was that he was getting saddle sore. But he had been on a horse many times before, and it had not seemed to bother him.

She slid Brego in through a gap, coming up beside Boromir. "Are you well?"

He glanced at her, then nodded. "Aye. Just a bit weary, is all."

A muscle jumped under his left eye, a sign that he was lying to her. Her jaw clenched for a moment before she forced it to relax. If he did not wish to tell her the truth, there was a good reason for it. She would leave him be.

"I rode through here years ago," Tauriel said absently. "It was rather different at the time."

Boromir nodded. "Aye. Much has changed." His words were clipped, and she glanced at him again, frowning.

"Forgive me. Are you sure you are well?"

"Aye, I am sure. It is nothing that a good hot meal and a night of rest will not fix."

Tauriel filed this away for later inspection, but let it go. "Who is Eowyn?" she asked.

"I know little other than her name, I admit. I rarely travel through these lands. Gimli has taken a shine to her."

"Aye. She is oddly happy for one who has just lost a close friend and relative."

"Perhaps. If I were to take a guess, I would say she is dealing with the grief the only way she knows - with laughter. There is little else she can do."

"She can handle a sword quite well," Tauriel said.

Boromir nodded. "Yes, she can. Perhaps she would give even you a bit of a challenge. I watched her practice a handful of days ago. She has the natural talent, though her technique could use some work." He glanced at her. "You would do well to teach her."

Tauriel snorted. "No. She has already offered to be my friend and confidante. I do not wish to spend more time with her than necessary."

"Why? She is a kind young woman with a strong heart."

"I have no good reason," Tauriel said shortly, "but she does not seem like the kind of girl I would ever befriend."

Boromir looked at her sharply. "She has not been a girl for many years."

"She is to me. Amongst my people, she is still considered a child and will be for many more moons."

"You truly do not care for her," Boromir murmured, half disbelieving.

"It is not that I do not care for her - I simply have no reason to seek her company. When she has proven to me that her heart is strong and true, then I may perhaps rethink the notion." She rode on in silence for a moment. "Legolas has refused to meet my gaze for the past day. I am not entirely sure I know why."

"He is deeply troubled, that I do know. He will not look or speak at me. Mayhap he has gotten word from his people."

Tauriel looked at him sharply, then quickly glanced back at Legolas. "And why would you say that?" she demanded.

"I saw him holding a fine piece of parchment many days ago."

Air hissed through Tauriel's gritted teeth as she exhaled. "Very well. Thank you, my friend."

She swung Brego around, picking her way carefully through the pack of men, women and children.

Legolas met her gaze as she neared, grey eyes meeting green for the briefest of seconds before he looked away. His horse was quickly turned , and as Tauriel halted, he made his way hastily towards Aragorn, Gimli and Eowyn.

She gritted her teeth and turned away.

* * *

Eowyn approached Gimli rather hesitantly, a pot swinging from her left hand. Tauriel inhaled slightly, recognizing the scent of some sort of stew.

"Gimli," Eowyn murmured, extending the pot.

Gimli looked down at it for a moment and quickly backed away, shaking his head. "No, I couldn't. I really couldn't."

Eowyn extended it to Tauriel.

Tauriel peered at the mess of thick brown substance within. Eowyn stirred it slightly, and she almost gagged. It did not look like anything she would ever willingly eat.

"I am not hungry," she said. It was not even a lie - the goo inside had diminished what little appetite she had.

Eowyn's face fell slightly. She hesitated, then took several quick steps towards Aragorn.

He looked up from his sword. "Aye?"

"I made some stew," the girl said. "It isn't much, but it's hot." She scooped some into a wooden bowl and handed it to him.

"Thank you," Aragorn said. He looked down at it for a moment, then spooned some of it up into his mouth. His eyes widened abruptly, and Tauriel watched as hurriedly swallowed the bite. "It's . . . good," he said weakly.

Eowyn beamed. "Really?" She turned away, ladling some into a young boy's bowl.

Aragorn nodded reluctantly, then beckoned Tauriel closer. She raised a brow, and then leaned down.

"Teach her to cook," he hissed in her ear. "We will all die of food poisoning if something does not change."

She scowled at him. "I am no great hand at culinary arts," she said under her breath.

He gestured widely. "Just help her." He glanced at Eowyn to make sure her back was still turned, then frantically tried to scrape the mush from his bowl.

Tauriel coughed to hide her laugh, and turned away.

Eowyn turned. Aragorn winced and desperately tried to look as if he had been eating what had once been in the bowl.

"My uncle told me a strange thing," Eowyn said.

Tauriel halted, frowned, and turned back.

"He said that you rode to war with Thengel, my grandfather. But he must be mistaken."

Tauriel pursed her lips. She had missed this piece of information, and made a mental note to ask Boromir again.

Aragorn smiled. "King Theoden has a good memory. He was only a small child at the time."

Eowyn, predictably, gasped, and Tauriel rolled her eyes. "Then you must be at least sixty. Seventy? But you cannot be eighty!

"Yes," Tauriel said flatly, interrupting. "He can."

"Eighty-seven, to be exact," Aragorn added.

"His is one of the Dunedain," Tauriel said. "A descendant of Numenor, blessed with long life."

Eowyn frowned. "It was said your race had passed into legend."

"There are few of us left. The Northern Kingdom was destroyed long ago."

Eowyn shook her head in mild disbelief and spooned more stew into Aragorn's bowl. "Please. Eat."

His face turned panicky, and Tauriel smothered a laugh. She turned and walked away.

* * *

Eowyn trudged into the fire-lit area, hair hiding her face.

"I need help," she said.

Tauriel jerked slightly, then looked up. "Why?"

"I need to learn how to cook."

"The others seemed to enjoy your food."

She shook her head miserably. "No, the don't. They fairly spilled it all back up. Lord Aragorn was merely being kind."

Tauriel coughed. "You want me to teach you how to cook." Her tone was flat.

"Aye. I never had a chance, before."

Tauriel glanced at the girl. "Aragorn fairly ordered me to help you learn."

Eowyn turned scarlet. "I'm sorry."

Tauriel leaned back, then sighed. "Very well. Start by using _fresh_ meat."

* * *

Audriel spun, facing Haldir with a snarl baring her lips. "You march to war."

He inclined his head. "Aye," he said calmly.

She whirled again, words pounding through her temples with every step she took.

 _Your daughter_ , Lady Galadriel said softly. _She is there. And the other, the one you have sworn to protect._

Audriel froze mid-step, caught between annoyance and blatant fear. "Seena?" she whispered.

 _No. Tauriel. She took up the name for but a short period of time. Her steps have carried her to the very crossroads of her destiny. She is choosing her path. If she wavers, there will be no one to carry the weight on her shoulders._

"And the princeling." Audriel swore. "Of course he would be there. Thranduil told me . . ." Her words became little more than mumbles as she paced. "She cannot care for him as he cares for her."

In her mind, Lady Galadriel bowed her head. S _he is merely walking the path you have paved. You lost her once. To tear her away from those she holds dear will keep her from you forever._

"The road I paved?" Audriel sneered. "Thranduil and his son have done nothing but manipulate her with false words and empty promises. I started it, perhaps, but they shaped it to their wishes."

Haldir frowned. "Your daughter is fully capable of making her own choices."

She snorted. "Indeed."

 _You have much rage inside you. You will have to let it go if you ever hope to gain your daughter's trust or love._

"I am perfectly fine," Audriel growled, strengthening her mental shields as what she truly wanted from Tauriel flashed in vivid colors before her eyes.

 _Our time has ended, Audriel. We will sail. And when we do, will Tauriel come with us? Who will make the journey?_

"Forget about your daughter," Haldir said, eyes hard. "Let her go for the time being. Focus on the one you swore to protect. It was no sacred vow, but you gave Thranduil your word."

"Very well." Audriel calmed herself with difficulty, hiding the rage in her heart behind green eyes and a mask made of centuries of practice. "If you march to war, I walk with you. I want to see my daughter."

* * *

 **Quite a few things are coming up in the next five chapters or so! I will update ASAP, as always.**

 **R &R, please!**


	21. Luck of the Draw

**An update! Yay! No time to respond to all the reviews now - I don't think there were many questions, either, although if there were I will try and answer them next chapter.  
annie, wait and see! :) **  
**If this chapter seems rough, it is. I barely brushed over this one before posting it. The timeline will also wander a lot. There are also a _lot_ of typos in this thing - I wasn't using any sort of spell-check programming in this chapter, so I apologize in advance.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Aragorn opened his eyes, staring upwards into Arwen's face. "I am asleep. This is a dream."_

 _Arwen smiled. "Then it is a good dream." She bent, pressing her lips to his. "Sleep."_

 _He shook his head and rose, walking slowly to the arched window._ "Minlû pedich nin i aur hen telitha."

"Ú i vethed na i onnad, _" she said._ "Boe bedich go Frodo. Han bâd lîn."

 _Aragorn shook his head._ "Dolen i vâd o nin. _"_

 _Arwen merely smiled, looking at him with knowing eyes full of affection. "_ Si peliannen i vâd na dail lin. Si boe ú-dhannathach."

"Arwen - _" he whispered._

 _She lifted a finger to his lips, silencing him. "_ Ae ú-esteliach nad, estelio han, estelio ammen. _.." She hesitated, then said, "Trust_ us. _"_

* * *

"You are tired." Boromir looked at her across the fire, eyes half-shut.

Tauriel glanced upward at him and then returned her gaze to the sparking logs. "Aye. Though it was but a handful of moons ago, it feels like the journey has lasted a lifetime."

He shifted, wincing slightly. "You must want to go home."

"I have no home," she said flatly. "I gave it up years ago."

"But if you did? What would you do?"

"I do not know." Tauriel paused. "If I had one wish, it would be to go back and make things right. But I know I cannot - not now, not ever." Her eyes cut to his somber face for a brief moment. "And you?"

"My brother," Boromir said heavily.

She frowned. "Your brother?"

"Faramir. I would set things right with him. It has been many a day since we stood together as equals, in his eyes."

"How so?"

"My father. He cares little for Faramir and praises me for tasks completed by my brother." Her chuckled humorously. "Faramir will never be more than the second son in my father's eyes, weak and incompetent."

"Surely he is not so daft as that."

"He is half-mad, it seems. Faramir is a good, strong man, and would surely be respected by my father if he was not my father's son."

Tauriel shook her head. "If he is anything like you, your father is blind."

"He is that and more," he said bitterly.

Tauriel glanced at him, not entirely sure which person Boromir was referring to. He did not elaborate, however, and she lapsed into thoughtful silence.

Three camp-fires away, Legolas stared unseeing into the ever-changing firelight. In one hand a piece of parchment lay, the paper that had once been fresh and clean stained with mud and dabs of blood. He clenched his fist abruptly, jaw tensing, and after a long moment uncrumpled the abused piece of parchment.

He looked down at it, eyes tracing words that had become depressingly familiar throughout the past while.

I will have to tell her soon, he thought. And though he had long hoped for something similar to this, now that it was before him he found himself daunted by the prospect.

* * *

"Where is she?" Eowyn asked, gesturing towards Aragorn's neck. "The woman who gave you that jewel, I mean."

 _Our time here is ending._

Aragorn was silent for a long moment.

"My lord?" Eowyn asked, touching his elbow.

"She is sailing to the Undying lands with all that is left of her kin," he said quietly.

* * *

 _"Arwen's time is ending," Lord Elrond said. "Let her go. Let her take the ship into the west. Let her bear away her love for you to the Undying Lands. There it will be ever green."_

 _"But never more than a memory." There was an echo of pain in Aragorn's voice._

 _Elrond's words cracked out like a whip. "I will not leave my daughter here to die."_

 _"She stays because she still has hope."_

 _He shook his head. "She stays for_ you _. She belongs with her people."_

* * *

Tauriel closed her eyes, unconsciously sinking into a world of memories.

* * *

"Nach gwannatha sin? Ma nathach? Hi gwannathach or minuial archened?" A _rwen stared at Aragorn, lips parted slightly._

"Ú-ethelithon," _Aragorn said heavily._

 _Arwen shook her head gently._ "Estelio guru lîn ne dagor. Ethelithach."

"Ú-bedin o gurth ne dagor."

"O man pedich?" _she whispered._

"Edra le men, men na guil edwen, haer o auth a nîr a naeth." _The words were forced past his lips._

 _Arwen stared at him, eyes glistening with tears. "Why are you saying this?"_

 _"I am mortal. You are elf-kind. It was a dream, Arwen. Nothing more."_

 _She shook her head violently. "I don't believe you."_

 _Aragorn took her head, uncurling her fingers so that he could drop the necklace into it. "This belongs to you."_

 _She refused to take it. "It was a gift." She pushed it back into Aragorn's hand, wrapping his fingers around it. "Keep it."_

* * *

Tauriel forced herself from the past, lurching dangerously close to the fire. Her heart was beating rapidly, pulse roaring in her temples. She lowered her head to her hands, world spinning as everything began to hurt all over again.

Her worry over Eowyn and her fascination with Aragorn tripled ten-fold.

 _Why_? she thought. _Why did Arwen not tell me when she saw me in Rivendell? Unless - she saw me before Aragorn. Yes, that must be it. It is the only reasonable explanation._

She spun, searching for Aragorn. He sat at a fire, laughing over something Eowyn said. Fire boiled in her blood for an instant, and suddenly the vague feeling of uneasiness and irritation she got around Eowyn was legitimized.

 _He will not let Arwen go_ , she told herself. _I will make sure of it._

* * *

Tauriel watched in mild curiosity as Hama's horse flung itself backwards and away from the cliff. Beside her, Boromir eyed horse and rider with heavy-lidded eyes.

"What is it?" Gamling called. "Hama?"

"I'm not sure," Hama said, his voice periodically fading as the wind whipped his words away.

Tauriel watched the exchange for a moment longer, deeming it nothing to be worried about. She had heard nothing, nor seen anything out of the ordinary. Most of the horses were acting normally, and though the wind was distorting most sounds as they reached her ears, she was confident that someone would have seen something if an attack was imminent.

Hama spun his horse and began returning to the others even as a Warg lept from a pile of rocks nearby.

The horse squealed loudly, the sound cut off abruptly as the dog-like creature ripped its throat apart. Hama was flung to the ground, and Tauriel's eyes widened. In an instant, the Warg was on top of Hama, ripping at him for a moment before tossing him aside.

She swung Brego around, reaching for an arrow from her quiver. Acting purely on instinct, she nocked three arrows and released them all into the Warg's chest. The beast's coat was thick, but the combined injuries did it in. It howled briefly and then collapsed.

"Wargs!" Gamling bellowed, and a thin film of panic began to spread over the others.

Tauriel slid an arrow to her bowstring, waiting before loosing her quarrel. Gamling was fighting with the Warg's rider, now, and she did not want to risk hitting him.

Her mind was clear, her eyes and ears fine-tuned to her surroundings. Battle against the things she loathed deeply did not affect her in any way - indeed, she enjoyed it, loved to hear the gurgle of blood in a dying Orc's throat as it choked on the damage she had created.

There was another slight creaking of a bowstring being drawn, and she glanced to one side. Legolas had raised his bow towards the fight, frowning as he calculated movements and the force of the wind.

Gamling fell to one side. It was not much, but it was enough.

Legolas loosed his quarrel, Tauriel following suit a half-beat later. Both arrows shot towards the intended target, Tauriel's projectile catching up due to her bow's heavier draw weight. They struck at the same time, and the Orc crumpled to the ground, two arrow shafts protruding from its neck.

"A scout!" Boromir roared, and behind them Aragorn turned and ran back to the refugees.

"What is it?" Theoden demanded. "What do you see?"

"Wargs," Aragorn said sharply, and the women around him began to wail. "We're under attack. Get them out of here."

Tauriel joined him, grabbing the reins of his horse from Eowyn's hands and thrusting them into Aragorn's grasp. Aragorn mounted quickly, patting the horse's neck as he palmed the length of the reins.

"All riders to the head of the column!" Theoden bellowed. Tauriel spun Brego, then eased back on the reins as Gimli struggled to mount his horse.

"Come on," the dwarf muttered. "Get me up here. I'm a rider. Come on." He finally succeeded, straightened proudly, and almost pitched himself off on side.

"You must lead the people to Helm's Deep," Theoden said to Eowyn, looking down at her. "Make haste, I beg you."

"I can fight," Eowyn said, her words iron-hard.

"No! You must do this, for me."

"Tauriel!" Boromir roared, and Tauriel turned Brego. A part of her wanted to hear the rest of the conversation, but blood-lust won.

She guided the horse with her knees, nocking multiple arrows on her bow as she moved Brego quickly towards the cliff. Legolas was releasing arrows in rapid succession, aiming in the space of a heartbeat.

"Follow me!" Theoden called somewhere behind them. His voice faded away as she focused.

Tauriel calculated the distance, aiming for a particularly large Warg and rider. She released three arrows, two for the Warg and one for its rider. As the arrows hissed away, she felt that they were both good shots and quickly nocked two more.

Emptying saddles as fast as she could, she saw that Legolas had picked up the slack. Wargs were once more tumbling to the ground.

There was no more time. They were almost upon them.

She swung Brego around. To her side, Legolas rushed towards the horse he often shared with Aragorn, swinging himself up easily.

Tauriel drew her sword. Though she would have preffered her daggers, the twin blades were too short for the task before her.

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the huff of horses and the whistling wind.

And then an order was called out, and everyone was flying towards what would be, for some, their deaths.

* * *

 _"Aren't you lovely?" Audriel murmured, tracing Aruelle's jaw with one finger. Her sister flinched, but held her ground._

 _"Leave me be."_

 _Audriel clicked her tongue. "I am afraid you will not be that lucky." There was a rasp of steel against leather, and then there was a blade lowered to Aruelle's throat._

 _"I don't know where it is," Aruelle said calmly. Red hair spilled across one cheek, hiding a red splotch where Audriel had slapped her._

 _Audriel's eyes rolled upwards with exasperation. "Of course you know where it is. You've known for years. I've heard you calling out in your sleep, ranting on and on about how 'the stars are falling.' "_

 _Aruelle ground her teeth for a moment, then straightened, gathering herself further. "You are lucky I am not like you, sister," she said softly. "If I was, you would be dead."_

 _Audriel's hand snaked out, connecting with Aruelle's unmarked cheek with a loud crack. Her sister's head snapped to one side, pale skin turning mottled red._

 _Aruelle slowly raised a hand to her face, fingertips brushing against what would soon be a bruise._

 _"You mock me," Audriel spat._

 _"No," Aruelle whispered. "I have no need to do so. You have done a remarkably good job of that yourself."_

* * *

Boromir stabbed at a passing Warg, his sword slicing through a layer of fur and into skin and muscles. The Warg roared, falling helplessly onto its side. He raised his sword, preparing to behead the creature as best he could, but stopped as an arrow hit the Warg in the middle of its forehead. He recognized the fletching as Tauriel's and turned his gaze to the direction in which the shaft had come from.

She met his gaze almost immediately, and for a moment he did not recognize her. A wild grin was pulling at her lips; she looked happier than he had seen her for a long time.

Her eyes widened suddenly, mouth opening as she screamed a warning. He spun, sword raised, the movement pulling painfully at the inflamed scar tissue on his torso.

A Warg barreled towards him, froth flying from its mouth. He braced himself and spewed curses, praying that Tauriel would bring the beast down, for he had no chance of stopping it by himself. He heard her cry out again, and in the corner of his eye her bow drew back in preparation of loosing an arrow.

She let the arrow fly.

She missed.

* * *

 **I know, I am evil. I did not originally intend to end it there, but, well... If it seems odd that Tauriel should miss just this one time, that will also be explained later on. I know there was a lot of elvish, too - if you want a translation feel free to ask me!**

 **Reviews, as always, are love. ;) An update should be up within the next two weeks!**


	22. Let Go

**Why did this update take so long, you ask? Well, I rewrote the entire fic. Yes, that's right. And I changed it so Boromir could live. You people better appreciate this! :p ;) No time to respond to reviews now (boooooo) but if there are any important questions I WILL try to answer them. Elvish translations will hopefully go out tomorrow.**

 **This chapter is a filler, rough around the edges and unedited. Sigh.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

The bowstring creaked slightly as she drew it back; the arrow shaft brushed her fingertips.

She let it go.

It hissed, dead on target, and then suddenly it swerved, spinning away from the Warg.

She froze.

Noise faded.

Time shuddered to a halt.

All she could see was Boromir's face - looking at her, his eyes dark with shock and betrayal.

 _No._

 _No._

 _No, no . . ._

She flicked another arrow from her quiver, drew it back.

It was too late.

 _Always too late._

He was gone . . .

Let it go.

She released.

 _Too late_ , her mind chanted, _you were too late. Now is no different than all those other times. Too late, Tauriel!_

She screamed at herself to move, to do something, but everything was frozen.

The arrow hit the Warg's shoulder, making it stagger but not fall. It was but feet from Boromir now, feet hitting the ground with a shallow thumps that echoed in her ears.

Boromir lifted his sword, braced himself. His face was hard. He looked at her for a moment longer, and the complete resignation in his eyes stabbed her, sharp as any dagger. She reached for another arrow, drew it back, knowing that she was out of time. Already her heart hurt, ached so badly she could barely draw in breath.

A battle cry hit her ears, and someone threw themselves between Boromir and the Warg.

She gaped for a moment, her mind struggling to process the development, and then released the arrow. It hit the Warg's rider, knocking the Orc from its mount.

Boromir threw himself to the side, grabbed for the man's arm. The man jerked away, and his eyes caught Tauriel's. Boromir collapsed, blood streaming from one arm and a slash across one cheek.

 _Aragorn_.

The voices in her head redoubled, screaming curses and praises alike.

She slipped a throwing knife into her hand and aimed, praying that her shaky limbs would not betray her.

She threw it. The blade hit the Warg in between its shoulder blades, sticking hilt-deep and rocking with every stride the best took.

Aragorn stepped backwards, trying to dodge the Warg's snapping lunges.

Tauriel's eyes glazed over and she stiffened abruptly.

* * *

 _Falling._

 _Her stomach in her mouth, wind curling through her hair - short, shorter than it should have been - and whistling in her ears._

 _She screamed in fury and denial, latched herself onto the body of the Warg falling beside her, braced for impact . . ._

* * *

She lurched forward.

" _No_! Aragorn, don't!"

He couldn't hear her. He spun to the side, threw himself at the Warg.

 _Fool_! she screamed at herself. _Such a fool . . ._ She broke into a sprint, racing for a finish line that was non existent.

The Warg snapped at Aragorn as he hung dangerously from its neck, tipping to one side and then scrabbling for a foot hold on the edge of the cliff.

One breath.

A mere heartbeat.

And then he was gone.

* * *

"Dear me." Audriel circled the elf before her, grinning, her face alight with a mixture of emotions.

The elf grimaced, forcing himself upwards. He held a pair of daggers, as did Audriel. A thin line of blood adorned his left cheek, and a bruise was beginning to blossom on his knuckles.

He crouched low, wincing again but refusing to give Audriel the satisfaction of hearing him cry out.

She lifted a brow. "Again, Elroth?"

" _Aye_ ," he bit out.

She was still for a moment, and then a grin fairly split her face in two. She flipped the blades into their correct position and dropped low to the ground with a strange, sliding movement that seemed to be entirely habitual on her part. Elroth scowled, watching her as she watched him. Try as he might, he could not find his way around her maze of lightning-fast, completely unpredictable slashes and blocks. Even more irritating was the fact that several smaller groups of elves had stopped their own sparring to watch.

Formerly, he had regarded fighting Audriel - one of the few elves who had ever truly challenged Haldir in sword-to-sword, formal combat - to be a great honor.

Now he was fairly sure her face would haunt his dreams. The smile that often lit up her features appeared only as she cut past his guard and scored another kill strike. Her laugh was even more disturbing, as was her seemingly ever-changing glamour. He was not entirely sure what she really looked like - her face had changed often enough that he would forever have his doubts.

Audriel's eyes narrowed to slits as she studied him.

Elroth gritted his teeth, braced himself, and did what he had formerly been loathe to do.

He charged her.

His steps were slightly stilted, the sweep of his blades less than graceful. He threw himself towards her without thought of the consequences. His temper - already beginning to wear thin as they marched onward - had finally snapped.

Audriel recoiled, clearly not expecting him to lunge. Her hands shot upward, the blades they held clashing with one of his own. Metal screeched and sung as the three blades locked, scraping hilts. Their knuckles shown white as they braced themselves.

Audriel didn't see the other blade coming.

Elroth slipped past her defenses, his second blade plummeting down towards her heart. It stopped but a half-inch away from piercing her, quivering slightly as he forced himself to still.

"Dead," he said softly - and, although he tried to deny it, more than a little smugly.

Audriel was motionless for a long moment, and then erupted. Her face contorted, hatred gleaming in her eyes as she forced him backwards, blades slicing through the air with lightning speed. He realized that he had made a potentially deadly mistake and opened his mouth to beg her pardon, but was stopped as one of her blades hissed downwards.

The metal sliced cleanly across his right cheek, matching the scratch on his left side. This cut was deeper, though, and it was no accident.

She stilled for a heartbeat. Every inch of her body was fairly humming, and he could see in her eyes that he was close - so close - to meeting his end at her hand.

Audriel withdrew her blade.

"You," she whispered, "are dead to me."

* * *

"Boromir," she whispered, crawling to him. All around her there was shouting, mingled with the occasional snarl. The brief fight was almost over, but it no longer mattered.

His breathing was ragged and heavy, catching occasionally. Eyes glazed over with pain, he stared up at her from his place on the ground.

"Tauriel," he rasped.

She forced herself to look downward.

The scarring that had, just a week or so before, started to loosen and fade, was broken open across his torso. Beyond the ripped and bleeding skin, she saw inflammation much greater than Boromir had led her to believe.

She slowly drew in a breath, closing her eyes for a moment and then looking back down.

"It is bad, isn't it." His words were nothing if not calm, resigned even. He chuckled humourlessly. "It matters not. You have already saved me once. This time, let me go."

Her gaze dipped down to the massive claw marks adorning one shoulder and traveling down halfway across his back. She winced, then murmured, "No." Extending shaking hands, she laid them on his temples and reached for the flow of healing power within.

The tiny ball of light was entirely non existent.

She swallowed - hard - and searched for it again.

Nothing.

Again.

The place it was usually locked away in was empty. Echoing with the sounds of her own screams.

"No," she whispered. She felt like she was reliving the horror of Boromir's previous injuries. Except this time - this time she knew she wouldn't be able to heal him.

She couldn't find it.

And it hurt. Hurt so very deeply because all of it - she had done it all.

Her arrow had missed.

And now he was bleeding out on the ground before her.

She choked on air, straining for something that seemingly no longer existed.

Still there was nothing.

She sagged, head pounding with a sudden rush of blood. She fumbled for the cloth of her sleeves, ripping off her wrist-guards and using her dagger to slice it away up to her elbows.

Stretching the cloth tight, she tried in vain to bind his wounds, trying to ignore the blood slicking over her hands as she moved.

"Tauriel."

She jumped, daggers leaping from their scabbards.

Legolas stepped backwards, smoothly ducking the blades, and held out a single arrow. She gazed uncomprehending at it for a moment, then snatched it towards her face. It was the arrow she had fired - and missed with.

She was vaguely aware of Legolas crouching at Boromir's side, of his slight intake of breath and his quick movements to try and staunch the flow.

The arrow shaft was bent.

And the fletching was different than her usual.

Hands shaking slightly, she drew another arrow from her quiver, quickly untangling rogue strands of red hair from the end.

It was different. Even the wood from which the arrow had been made was darker; the feather fletching was coal-black.

She jerked her quiver off, dumping its contents on the packed earth.

Most of the arrows on the right side of her quiver were bent.

Rage hit her like tsunami. She lost all rational thought; clutched a handful of the flawed arrows until the shafts snapped. Someone had - somehow - known of a habit she rarely fell back into: when under great stress or trying to go for an extremely fast aim and draw, she pulled arrows from the right side of her quiver.

The broken pieces of wood fell from her hands, blood staining the jagged edges.

She did not know what to do.

Was not even sure if she was truly seeing anything correctly - perhaps this was all a terrible dream, another one of her all-too-real nightmares.

It was impossible. The chances of her drawing one of the flawed arrows at the correct time - of even getting them into her quiver without her noticing - were so slim the number was fairly non existent.

" _Tauriel_!" someone snapped.

She growled low in her throat but turned. Legolas had somehow lifted Boromir up and to the side, trying to keep his head steady as he lolled back, unconscious. A horse and rider were positioned above him, the horse tossing its head continuously.

She shook herself, hard, and moved to lift his legs. They both heaved and the man on the horse reached down, grabbing at Boromir's torso as they all strained to lift him.

He was lighter than Tauriel remembered, and she did not like the fact. She watched blood start to soak through the wadded-up rags, winced every time she heard a joint pop or a bone grate harshly.

She tried to position Boromir better over the horse's neck, looked up at the rider's face. "Get him a healer," she rasped. "He is fading fast. I can do nothing." _And I hate it. Hate that even after everything I have done to so many I have failed to do this too._

Legolas turned to her, his eyes unexpectedly hard. She did not understand why he was looking at her like she had truly wanted this to happen.

Gimli touched her elbow, now bare. She jumped slightly, not having seen him. His eyes were bright with what she suspected were tears. "Aragorn?" he murmured.

She closed her eyes and sank back to the ground.

She had almost - almost - forgotten.

"He fell," she whispered, giving up letting her voice crack.

They both recoiled.

"You jest with us," Legolas whispered.

She looked up at them then, pushed aside the loosened braids that had held her hair back from her face. Her eyes and throat burned. "Nay."

Gimli let out a moan and leaned heavily on his black-blood-stained ax. Legolas swallowed twice and then forced a single word past a tightly clenched jaw. "How?"

"The Warg." She let the words slide from her mouth, tried to transfer all of her intense anger and self-loathing into them. "He fell with it. It was my fault. All of it."

Gimli's head snapped up then, shock shining in his eyes. He took off his helmet and looked at her hard.

"No," he finally said. "It wasn't, lass. We are at war. Death finds us all eventually; be it on the battlefield or in our beds at night. Let him go - let them both go - and leave them the honor of meeting their end with a blade in their hands."

She bowed her head. The fact that Gimli was speaking of Boromir in the past tense cut deeper than it should have.

She, of all people, should understand, she told herself. Should know that there was no greater honor than falling with black blood staining your blade, the fire of a fight in your eyes.

But somehow, this time, it was not the same.

She had seen many of her comrades fall around her. Back in the Greenwood, as it slowly turned dark and poisonous, she had lost many members of the Guard to spider attacks. She had never blamed herself quite as much as she did now.

She had killed many before - and enjoyed it. Everything about the thrill of a fight set the sparks flying from her eyes. Even the rotting stench of Orc blood was enjoyable, in a way.

But this was most definitely not.

She rose, picked her quiver and belongings strewn across the ground. Tried to ignore Legolas's accusing stare and Gimli's watery eyes.

Refused to let the tears burning her own eyes spill over.

 _Let them go_.

* * *

 **Updates will be longer apart from now on, I am sad to say. School is taking up a lot of my time, as are other commitments.**

 **Reviews are, as ever, greatly appreciated. They make my day. ;)**


	23. Livien

**Wow. Almost three weeks later, and I finally have an update. Thank you all for your support. I am so sorry for the continued delays. I guess if I am totally honest, I am starting to loose inspiration for this fic - I've been working on the TT for almost two years now!**

 **Anyways. I have responded to some reviews privately, but since WickedGreene13 had a question that most people are probably wondering, here you go!  
Yes, Legolas will eventually stop blaming Tauriel. It's going to be a long process, though. :)**

 **Enjoy, hopefully!**

* * *

Legolas stared hard at Tauriel's back, not entirely sure what he was doing. He could not quite comprehend the fact that Boromir was severely injured - for the second time - and Aragorn was likely dead. It had been hours, and still it seemed that it had all been but a dream.

Tauriel was near-motionless on her horse, her body swaying in time to the stallion's steps, but her back was stiff and her hands barely holding the reins.

He looked at her hands again, searching for the thin white scars. Her arms were strangely bare, the wrist-guards somewhere in her saddlebag and her sleeves sliced away almost up almost to the shoulders from when she had ripped the cloth away to try and bind Boromir's wounds. Blood still stained her pale skin, splashes of dark rusty-red spreading across her arms and one cheek.

It was Boromir's blood, not hers. There was still a part of him that would have panicked if she had been hurt, though he had tried to repress it.

He was not sure what to think.

He was loathe to admit that none of this was her fault. It was so much easier to keep on trying to hate her.

Since she had revealed herself to the Fellowship, so many things had fallen apart that he could not help but feel like she had caused the catastrophes.

But it was war, and she had saved Boromir that first time.

He still vividly remembered the open, wild panic written across her face as she saw Boromir lying on the ground. He had come to realize that she cared for Boromir as no more than a friend, though at first there had been a spark of jealousy towards the gruff warrior.

There was still an open wound across his heart, a part of him that had been sliced away with every new betrayal she had shown them.

Some things he had slowly started to understand. Her threat towards his father. Her connection to the woodland that he remembered seemed have torn her apart from the inside. Perhaps even her strange, entirely unexpected fascination with that dwarf had had a good reason.

More recently, he had wondered if the slow decay of the Greenwood had also worn away at her sanity and original almost acidic personality.

The sharp humor was almost entirely gone - at least when she spoke to him - replaced with an almost urgent undertone to her every word and a strange light to her eyes, something he almost felt was fear. He did not know what she would be be apprehensive of, though - it was clear she did not fear death or battle.

He still wondered at the strange name she had hidden behind, and why her family was so feared and almost reviled. Often he had mused over why his father was so insistent that he not wed any of her line, despite the fact that Thranduil rarely had anything but the well-being of his son in mind.

There had to be a reason - an explanation - for it all, Legolas told himself over and over. And yet each time all he found were more questions that he could not answer.

He fisted one hand, resisting the urge to find the piece of parchment and re-read the words upon it for the hundreth time.

 _Son,  
_ _I hope you are well. I have had little news of the war and the Fellowship in which you seem to have remained, for news take many moons to reach me here in Mirkwood. I tell you this with more than a little apprehension, for I fear that I have waited too long. So many questions and so few answers, despite my long years of searching . . ._

Legolas had fairly memorized it by now, his eyes racing across the paper hungrily over and over again.

At first he had been happy, if not a little shocked.

Then the questions hit him once more, coupled with the pain of re-opened wound.

He had almost tossed in into a fire. But he didn't, and now he carried it with him, waiting for the right time to tell _her_.

If he was going to tell her at all.

* * *

 _She looked at him hard, her gaze as unnerving as ever. There was something about her eyes that was far too old for comfort, despite the fact that she was not even of age._

 _"Why have you not wed?" she asked._

 _He frowned. The subject was a slightly tender one, and he was reluctant to answer._

 _She narrowed her eyes._

 _He coughed. One, two, three times._

 _"Well," he said._

 _Her lips pressed together, the slight shift of expression somehow rather intimidating. "Pretending that you have rather abruptly gone mute is a poor strategy," she informed him. "Your father told you to tell me what I wanted to know. I am asking you."_

 _He scowled, annoyed and more than a little ashamed. "He did not mean for me to answer these types of questions."_

 _She lifted a brow. "Shall I ask him myself?"_

 _"What? No! I mean, no, he would not allow it."_

 _A sly smile twisted her lips. "You are quite possibly one of the most appalling liars I have ever had the misfortune of encountering."_

 _He fumed in silence for a moment. When his father had warned him that the elleth would likely be difficult and impossibly stubborn, he had not expected it to be this bad. The fact that she seemed much older and somehow got under his skin only served to irritate him more._

 _"My father has introduced me to several elleths I considered courting," he finally gritted out. "We did not suit each other."_

 _Her head tilted to the side. "Why?"_

 _He considered the question for a moment, for in truth he was not entirely sure himself. "I would venture to guess it is because many of the noble-born elven maidens are quite different than those I usually interact with," he said, frowning._

 _"Why?" she asked again._

 _He glared at her for a moment before deigning to respond. "They are raised differently. Most do not enjoy the same things I do, and many cannot understand the magic of the woodland."_

 _Her eyes widened. "They cannot fight?"_

 _"Nay. Well," he amended, "most cannot. There is no need."_

 _She shook her head in disbelief, seemingly not comprehending. "That is so - strange."_

 _He almost smiled. The choice of words was amusingly out of place. "Perhaps."_

 _"I would not want to wed one that someone else chose for me," she said, brow creased._

 _"That is perhaps another piece of the puzzle. It always seemed quite forced," he mused, then caught himself. "I apologize. I should not be boring you with - this." Only a half-truth, but it would suffice._

 _She looked up at him, that sly smile flitting around her lips again. It unnerved him, though he could not explain why, and it occurred to him that she was already oddly pretty, though not in what most would consider a traditional way. He immediately shook the thought from his mind._

 _"Do not lie to me," she said softly, calmly._

 _She turned and began walking haltingly away from him, a limp shifting her steps. He fairly gaped after her, feeling impossibly foolish. This - this girl was making a utter fool of him, and somehow he was unable to figure out how or why._

 _He shook himself and moved to follow her._

 _"Tauriel," he called. "Wait!_ "

* * *

Audriel opened her eyes, smiling widely.

"Yes," she said softly. "You are hopeless. You have nothing. Love does nothing but wound. Sink deeper," she hissed through her teeth. "Let it all go."

 _Let the fire burn and twist and tear you apart from the inside. It will mold you into what you will need to be._

"Audriel."

She lifted a careless hand. "I am otherwise occupied at this time. Leave me be."

"Forgive me, but the Marchwarden has called for you to join him."

She whipped around, her green eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. "He does not command me."

The elf winced. "The Lady Galadriel orders it," he muttered.

Audriel considered him for a moment, her eyes blanking as she locked everything away from prying minds.

The elf shifted nervously under her gaze, even though she was not focusing on him.

She rose, unfolding her slim frame and straightening to her full height. "Very well. Take me to him."

* * *

 _You cannot save them all._

Adreh.

 _Your scars sting and pull, but in the end they will make you stronger._

The Elvenking. Even though there was still rage wild and hot inside her, his words had been true.

 _The light inside you, Tauriel . . it is so very strong. . . but it is dimming. . ._

Cahaldriel.

 _You have changed . . . fallen . . ._

Arwen.

 _You will rise . . . and then . . . you will fall._

Lord Elrond.

 _You burn from the inside out._

Tauriel jolted in her seat, muffling a cry of raw surprise. She had been so deeply immersed in her thoughts that she had unintentionally let down her mental shields.

She did not recognize the voice, and yet there was a small piece of her that knew it, somehow.

She jerked her walls back up and then slowly reached for the voice again. It was much like when she had spoken to the woodlands, and when the Lady of Light had poured knowledge and questions alike into her mind.

 _Who are you?_

 _It matters not. Let the fire burn. It will engulf you, but you are not weak. You will be stronger for it._

 _No._

She sensed that the speaker was somehow mentally rolling their eyes. _So stubborn. But then again, you always have been. So very much like me._ There was a hint of affection now, and it sent chills racing down her back. She knew this person, she was sure of it.

 _I do not know you. Let me be. I have no interest in conversation._

 _You know me._ There was a pause. _You just have not realized it yet._

 _Let me be!_ she snarled.

 _Very well. Reach for what may come to pass when you are in doubt. There is little else you can do._

And the speaker was gone, vanished without a trace.

Tauriel rubbed her forehead, a fresh ache blooming in her temples. She was numb all over. The world she was living in scarcely seemed real. Perhaps it was but a dream - no, a nightmare - and when she woke up Boromir and Legolas, perhaps even Kili, would be alive and well...

The riders halted, and Tauriel slowly followed suit. Her mind was muddy. Dismounting, she trudged towards the riders that had been only mildly injured and had insisted on continuing on to the battle.

Behind her, Legolas and Gimli swung down from their horse. Legolas looked hard at her for a moment. Tauriel was suddenly very much aware of the fact that her hair was snarled roughly back from her face in loosening braids, and she was covered in blood and mud.

He brushed past her and walked away.

Gimli patted her elbow as he passed. "Don't mind him," he muttered. "He's been in a right bad mood ever since Aragorn and Boromir left us."

Tauriel closed her eyes at the reminder. "He has good reason. I cannot seek to blame him for harboring anger towards me."

The dwarf scoffed. "You are far too kind towards him, lass. He is but a princeling, moody and unprepared for the fact that his comrades will all eventually meet their ends."

She frowned. "It is still my fault." Gimli's tone had been entirely serious, but he often jested with Legolas. She often had difficulty distinguishing what was serious and what was but a jest.

"You're an elf," he growled through his beard. "Are you not supposed to be blindingly knowledgeable? You are slamming your own pretty head into a tabletop over and over again and giving yourself little but a headache. Stop blaming yourself."

He trudged away.

Tauriel stared at her hands for several minutes. There were so many things that weighted heavily on her mind - Arwen and Aragorn, the woodlands, the battle, Boromir, Aragorn, the voices in her head, and Legolas.

Always Legolas, now.

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to remember his face with a smile on it. The memories were few and far between.

And suddenly another image appeared behind her closed lids.

* * *

 _Aragorn was floating in the water, blood streaming from a gash on his head. He bumped into the gravel on shore, the current pushing him onto the land._

 _He was still for long moments, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths._

 _He inhaled deeply suddenly, and then water began spewing from his mouth. A horse was trotting towards him, head lowered._

 _It was Brego. The stallion nudged Aragorn with his nose, urging him to move._

 _"Brego," Aragorn murmured, the word rasping painfully from his chest._

 _Brego pawed at the ground for a moment, then lowered himself to the gravel. Aragorn grasped his mane, pulling himself upwards and onto Brego's back. He sagged forward, and as Brego rose he almost fell._

 _The stallion moved, and the world faded to darkness._

* * *

Tauriel caught herself just as she began to fall, stumbling slightly as she regained her balance.

"Brego," she whispered to herself. "Brego - Brego is supposed to save Aragorn?" And then it hit her full in the face. "He lives," she breathed, and a burst of joy pierced her shadow-world. _He was alive._

She straightened, staggering towards her horse.

"Brego," she said again, and pulled everything from the horse's back. Pushing a hand against the stallion's nose, she leaned her forehead against his. "Find him," she whispered in elvish. " _Please_. And bring him back - safe."

Brego's ears pricked forward, and he stared at her for a moment.

"Please," she repeated.

He snorted once and backed away, then shook his head and started loping away.

She stared after him until his silhouette had faded from view, then sank to the ground, hands reaching for the tangled mess of braids on her head. Her hands were dirty, dried blood falling in flakes from her hands, but Aragorn was alive.

She ran a her hands through her red hair, cutting out the snarls too big to work through, and re-braided it all. Dozens of braids, big and small, ranging from three strands to long and complicated.

She leaned back and sighed, savoring the feeling that she knew would quickly begin to fade. She did not dare tell the others - for what if she was wrong? Her visions were wild and unpredictable, and to tell them that their friend still lived and then wrench their hope and joy away would have been deeply cruel.

Her worry over Boromir had faded somewhat as well, for if Aragorn had managed to live, why not Boromir too? She asked herself the question over and over again, random grins splitting her face over and over again.

 _He is alive_.

* * *

 **See how I tied that all together there? :) I have received a few comments on how Gimli is a bit different in my story. Yes, he is, and while I am still trying to capture his teasing undertone, with Tauriel he is usually entirely serious. Also, I should just warn you all now - don't trust anything Audriel says. Trust me.  
**

 **Reviews are love! Thank you all for reading - I cannot express how grateful I am for my readers, each and every single one of you.**


	24. Firestorm

**A bit sooner than I expected, but here ya go! I'm typing this on a phone, so don't have time (well, I guess I should say patience) to answer all the reviews I got. Thank you all so much for your support. Words can not express how grateful I am for my readers.**

 **This chapter is also unedited. I hope to go back and add responses to reviews and smooth it all out soon, but, well, that doesn't always happen, LOL. It's also a bit shorter than I would like.**

 **Not much of Tauriel in this chapter, but we're getting closer to the big battle! :D**  
 **Enjoy!**

* * *

"At last!" a woman cried, tears racing down her dirt-stained cheeks. "Helm's Deep."

"There it is," a boy murmured. "Helm's Deep." His tone was slightly awed, his eyes wide.

The noise level rose drastically. Everyone was talking, chattering on and on and on. Eowyn could barely breathe past her worry and more than a little anger. She could fight. She _would_ fight.

She said something very unladylike under her breath. The elf - Tauriel - was lucky. Though she knew that the elves cared not whether a warrior was male or female, to be free from the expectations of her sex and father would be wonderful.

A woman touched her elbow, eyes bright with relief. "We're safe, my lady. Thank you."

Eowyn smiled and patted her hand, and then reached out to steady an elderly woman who was barely able to stagger along.

"Mamma!" a girl cried, throwing herself into her mother's arms.

"Freda," the woman choked out, gathering a boy into her arms as well. They clung to each other tightly, crying softly.

Eowyn turned away, something pulling slightly in her chest.

"Come," she murmured, and the old woman shuffled along the best she could.

"Thank you, m'lady," she mumbled, her eyes surprisingly clear blue in the wrinkles and muck spread across her face.

Eowyn smiled and tried to tamp down the fire burning hot in her chest and throat.

* * *

"Helm's Deep has one weakness," Wormtongue muttered. "Its outer wall is solid rock but for a small culvert as its base which is little more than a drain." He watched as Saruman poured a stream of ground black substance into a spiked ball. "How?" he demanded. "How can fire undo stone? What kind of device could bring down the wall?"

He lingered by the wizard's side, the candle in his hand wavering dangerously close to the substance.

Saruman grabbed his hand, forcing it away from the pot. "If the wall is breached, Helm's Deep will fall."

"Even if it is breached, it would take a number beyond reckoning - thousands! - to storm the Keep."

"Tens of thousands," Saruman agreed.

Wormtongue bit his tongue, failed to hold his words in, and then blurted, "But my lord, there is no such force!"

Saruman whirled on him with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "You doubt me."

Wormtongue shook his head quickly, taking several steps backwards.

Saruman leaned forward and grabbed Wormtongue by the scruff of his neck. There was a look of mild repulsion on his face as he forcefully dragged the man towards the overlook.

They pushed through into the light, and suddenly a roar washed over them.

Wormtongue stared in awe. His jaw dangled mindlessly.

Saruman raised his staff high. "A new power is rising!" he roared. "It's victory is at hand. This night the land will be stained with the blood of Rohan! March to Helm's Deep! Leave none alive!" He paused, waiting for the rising storm of stamping feet and spears to cease. " _To war_!"

Wormtongue finally managed to close his mouth. A single tear rolled from his eye and down his pale cheek.

There were soft footsteps from behind the two, and an elf stepped forward. He was stern, a small scar running through one of his eyebrows. He looked at the two, then glanced out. A smile grew on his lips, spread across his face for barely a moment, then disappeared. "What we once considered unatainable is within our grasp," he said softly.

Saruman smiled. "There will be no dawn for men."

* * *

"Make way for the king!" they called out, their voices loud and rough over the soft clop of horses' hooves. "Make way for Theoden. Make way for the king!"

Tauriel met many pairs of eyes as she guided her horse - a raw-boned, unusually tempermental mare - past the crowds and through the cobble stone streets. They were of many different colors and shades, greens and blues and browns and strange golds, but they all had one thing in common: they were all scared. And Tauriel could not find it in her heart to blame them.

The girl, Eowyn, came rushing down a short flight of stairs, her hair streaming like a banner behind her. She halted, out of breath, before them. Tauriel glanced to the side and saw Legolas staring down at her with an odd look on his face, somewhere between confusion, sudden comprehension, and disgust.

 _Ah_ , she thought. _He knows, then._

"So few," Eowyn said, fighting and failing to sound calm. "So few of you have returned."

Theoden swung down from his horse. "Our people are safe. We have paid for it with many lives."

Gimli slowly lowered himself from his horse. Tauriel watched as Legolas did the same, but remained mounted.

Gimli cleared his throat and took of his helmet. "My lady."

Tauriel knew exactly what he was going to say, and it hurt her deeply to hear the rasp of emotion in his voice. Even more so, it made her doubt herself - there was, of course, a chance he was really gone from them, and though she was loath to admit it she knew that it was quite a bit more than possible.

Eowyn took a step back. "Lord Aragorn - where is he?"

Gimli bowed his head, making no effort to meet the girl's eyes. "He fell."

She recoiled, all color draining from her face. Her eyes darkened; her expression was caught between sudden, fierce anger and cold despair. She look at Theoden, and in that moment Tauriel saw something die in her.

 _She truly believes she loves him_ , Tauriel thought. _Perhaps she does._

Eowyn staggered backwards, and for a moment her eyes met Tauriel's. Green, green eyes, and Eowyn saw something akin to understanding in them.

 _Let him go._

Tauriel nodded, just once. And then the veil dropped down over her face once more, and any sign of emotion was gone.

* * *

 _"Arwen. Tollen i lû. I chair gwannar na Valannor. Si bado, no círar."_

"No." Her voice was little more than a whisper. "I have made my choice."

"He is not coming back. Why do you linger here when there is no hope?"

She turned to him, her eyes defiant. "There is still hope."

He looked at his daughter then, saw flashes of a future in which she stood, clothed in black, before the body of the one she loved. Of her walking amongst the bones of an ancient woodland, of tears streaming like jewels down her cheeks.

"If Aragorn survives this war, you will still be parted. If Sauron is defeated, and Aragorn made king, and all that you hope for comes true, you will still have to taste the bitterness of mortality. Whether by the sword of the slow decay of time, Aragorn will die." His words fell like stones at their feet.

Arwen slowly shook her head, refusing to accept them.

"There will be no comfort for you, no comfort to ease the pain of his passing. He will come to death an image of the splendor of the kings of Men, in glory undimmed before the breaking of the world."

She met his gaze with eyes sparkling with tears. It hurt him, to see her in so much pain and conflict, but she was many many years grown and he could no longer pick her up and hold her as he had when she was but a babe, could no longer wipe away her tears and her pain and tell her everything was going to be alright.

"But you, my daughter. You will linger on in darkness and in doubt as nightfall in winter that comes without a star."

He watched as her eyes glazed over at the sudden rush of images.

 _Snow. Trees, dead many a winter, torn to pieces around her. Their bare skeletons mocked her. She let her pain freeze on her cheeks, let the black veil whip away the droplets of ice._

"Here you will dwell. Bound to your grief under the fading trees, until all the world is changed and the long years of your life are utterly spent. Arwen," he said gently, the last word almost a question.

She choked on a silent sob, her cheeks flushed scarlet. Lips parted, she stared at him, tears streaming from her eyes and sliding down her cheeks. She inhaled shakily.

"There is nothing for you here," he said softly. "Only death." He took three quick steps towards her and then lowered himself to her side. " _Ah im, ú-'erin veleth lîn?"_ The question was almost pleading, for in the past moon he had carefully ignored her, trying to forget about the little booklet and the words that she had poured over and then confronted him with.

Arwen sucked in another breath. " _Gerich veleth nîn, ada._ " Her voice broke, and she buried her head in his shoulder.

 _Seena is gone,_ Elrond told himself _. Gone and dead. But Arwen - my daughter, my daughter - is here now. I must guide her the best I can. For though love is a wonderful thing, it can also destroy entire worlds._

* * *

 _"I amar prestar aen, han mathon ne nen, han mathon ne chae, a han noston ned 'wilith._

 _"The power of the enemy is growing. Sauron will use his puppet, Saruman, to destroy the people of Rohan. Isengard has been unleashed. The Eye of Sauron now turns to Gondor, the last free kingdom of Men. His war on this country will come swiftly._

 _"He senses the Ring is close. The strength of the Ring-bearer is failing."_

Elrond bowed his head, closed his eyes as he tried to make some sense of the turmtoil in his mind.

 _"In his heart, Frodo begins to understand."_ Lady Galadriel's eyes were steady and pain-shadowed. _"The quest will claim his life. You know this."_

Elrond shook his head, trying to deny the fact but remembering full-well the shaky images he had gotten of the Ringbearer's end.

The Lady of Light smiled unnervingly. " _You have foreseen it. It is the risk we all took. In the gathering dark, the will of the Ring grows strong._

 _"It works hard now to find its way back into the hands of Men._

 _"Men, who are so easily seduced by its power. The young captain of Gondor has but to extend his hand take the Ring for his own, and the world will fall._

 _"It is close now. So_ close _to achieving its goal. For Sauron will have dominion over all life on this Earth even unto to the ending of the world."_

And then blue, blue eyes, each one holding a question. _"The time of the Elves is over."_

Elrond raised his head, frowned out into the moonlight. So many options. So many paths that hundreds - nay, _thousands_ \- of people could take, and with one wrong step a carefully constructed plan would crumble at their feet.

 _"The question,"_ Galadriel said softly, _"is now this: Do we leave Middle-Earth to its fate?_ _Do we let them stand alone?"_

* * *

 _The smell of rot was heavy in the air, sickly sweet and slowly working its way through her, weaving and winding as it weakened her senses._

 _She reached out a hand to touch the trunk of the closest tree, fingers stretching as they tried to find the familiar, comforting texture of the bark._

 _Instead, they met a warm, oozing, sticky substance that smeared across her fingers, smelling of rotten fruit and week-old meat when maggots had taken hold._

 _She lifted her hand to her face._

 _The thick liquid was golden, dripping down her fingers and arm. She tilted it more towards the light, and then cried out in shock and horror._

 _It was blood._

 _Abruptly, the dying forest changed to orange and yellow-tinged flames, the skeletons of the leafless trees standing out starkly. Voices filled her ears, whispering accusations, questions, promises. . . ._

 _She fell to her knees, already knowing what she would see when she looked up._

 _An Eye. Huge, always-searching. . . Her ears filled with crackling, and around her the forest turned to dust._

 _The Eye looked at her. It suddenly flashed dark-brown and then turned grey-blue. She choked on a sob, turning away, trying to hide her face._

 _And suddenly, it was green, splintered with shards of hazel and shattered green gems. A forest reflected back at her - not rotten and dying, but healthy, standing tall and proud._

You have not yet chosen.

* * *

 **Hoping to get the next chapter up within two weeks. Remember that if you review with a account, I will be able to respond to you much easier. :) Reviews are, as always, greatly appreciated.**

 **Until the next chapter!**


	25. Revival

**Yay, a new chapter! :p**

 **Warriorheart5, I will do my best to send you elvish translations for the last chapter, and this chapter as well, before I post the next chapter.**  
 **Mndbndr and crispybacon, here ya go!**  
 **jana349, glad you enjoyed it!**  
 **guest, you're close, but not quite there. ;) Keep on guessing!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Tauriel opened her eyes, a smile fairly splitting her face in two. For the first time in a long while, she was glad for the strange images that often appeared, washing over the present and throwing her into another world.

She rose easily, slinging her bow over one shoulder as she adjusted the quiver of arrows at her side.

Quickly estimating the drop from the loft she had been seated in, she dropped to the ground. The impact vibrated up through the soles of her feet and up into her shins. She winced slightly, realizing that she should have either rolled as she landed, or used the ladder just feet away.

Shaking her head, she slipped out the door and into the streets. The mud-stained cobblestones were slippery beneath her booted feet, but despite the muck she moved lithely in between the common folk, dodging carts filled with weapons and goods alike as she moved quickly towards where Aragorn should arrive.

She got there just as Aragorn swung down from his horse, muttering words of thanks in Brego's ear.

"He's alive," someone in the crowd muttered.

She stepped forward and leaned her forehead against the stallion's. " _Mae carnen, Brego, mellon nîn_ ," she whispered, then turned to Aragorn.

"You look terrible," she said bluntly.

It was true. Bruises marred his cheeks; a scrape, now scabbed over, adorned one side of his face, and his clothing was stained with blood.

He rasped out a half-laugh, patting Brego's neck. "But I am alive." He was looking at her oddly, and she did not know why.

"What?" Tauriel finally snapped.

He continued to eye her steadily. "You were there."

She frowned. "What?" she repeated, confused.

"When I awoke, on the bank of the river - you were there. You spoke to me. 'Come back. Arwen needs you.' " He shook his head. "I saw her, too. She touched my face and bid me stay with her. I thought I was dreaming."

She turned away to hide the emotions that would surely flit across her face whether she liked it or not. Aragorn was far too good at reading her, and his dark eyes were often highly disconcerting.

"You were delusional," she said, once she felt she had gotten herself under control. "It is to be expected. You are lucky to be alive." She pondered over the fact that Aragorn had seen her where she had not been, and wondered what it meant.

"I am." He leaned forward, meeting her gaze steadily, then switched to Elvish. "Do not bother trying to deny your part in this, Tauriel. This horse - Brego - I saw you riding him. You sent him for me."

She opened her mouth, ready to deny his words, then closed it. "I did," she finally said. "Arwen loves you. To go and get yourself killed would be to destroy her."

Aragorn stepped backwards, his face closing off. "Arwen . . ." He broke off, then stopped as a familiar roar broke over them.

"Where is he? _Where_ is he? Get out of the way! I'm going to _kill_ him!" Gimli shoved his way through the crowd, brandishing his ax in one hand. "You -you are the luckiest, the canniest, and the most reckless man I ever knew!" The dwarf embraced Aragorn. "Bless you, laddie."

Aragorn laughed, the sound making several people around him wince. He sounded parched. "Gimli, where is the king?"

Gimli drew back and pointed in the correct direction. Aragorn smiled, patting the dwarf on the shoulder before he limped away.

Gimli turned to Tauriel, and chuckled. "He's alive!"

She nodded and smiled, and then took Brego by the reins and guided him towards the nearest stablehand. She would have greatly preferred to take care of him herself, but she knew that she had to gather with the rest of the Fellowship.

She turned and made her way quickly towards Aragorn's fast disappearing back. Catching up with him just as she found Legolas, she edged to the side as the two embraced.

" _Le abdolle_ n," Legolas declared, then stepped back as he looked Aragorn up and down. "You look terrible."

Tauriel huffed out a quick breath of a laugh before schooling her face once more. Legolas glanced at her quickly, a look of mild curiosity on his face, before turning back to Aragorn.

She saw a glimmer of silver in the palm of his hand as he pressed something into Aragorn's fingers.

"You dropped this," he said evenly.

Aragorn looked down at it, then curled his fingers around it. " _Hannon le_." His smile had faded, though, and he walked away sooner than Tauriel would have expected.

They both watched him go.

Tauriel turned to do the same, but Legolas stopped her with a soft brush of his fingers against her arm.

She turned, fighting to keep her expression neutral. "Aye?"

He was looking at her, hard, and his gaze was making her uncomfortable. It had been many moons since she had felt his eyes on her with something other than anger or distrust in them.

"You knew," Legolas finally said. His words were not a question.

She paused for a moment, then nodded. "I did."

"How?"

She looked at him steadily, and neatly side-stepped the question. "You truly had no hope that he would return to us alive?"

He frowned. "I did not dare to hope, at first. He is much like a brother to me. And it was quite easy to tell myself that it was indeed all your fault and that Aragorn and Boromir would not be coming back because of you."

She turned her face away, but the movement was not quick enough to hide the flash of pain in her eyes.

Legolas winced. "I - I did not mean it that way."

She whipped around, anger that she had long repressed bubbling up. "Then how _did_ you mean it?" she snarled, her face suddenly very close to his. She knew that she was loosing control, and at the same time she did not care. "I made mistakes, Legolas - mistake beyond counting. And your father's banishing me was no more than I deserved, I know that. I hid myself from you all because I knew you would not let me join the Fellowship otherwise. And I was scared - scared, because I _knew_ that I had hurt you, and _I did not know what to do to fix that._ "

She stepped back, breathing heavily.

 _No. No, no . . ._

Legolas was looking at her in mild shock, his eyes widened considerably. A muscle pulsed in his jaw.

"I was wrong to blame you," he said quietly. "Deep down I always knew it. But as I said, it was so much easier to try my best to hate you. It matters not that I failed."

She started at that. She had fully expected him to say that he didn't care. He had every right to. "You wear a mask too, then," she said softly, all the anger she had felt just moments earlier vanished.

He looked at her, measuring her with his eyes. She knew the expression well. It was the same one he had often portrayed as they sparred, back in the Greenwood, when she was still a member of the Guard.

Tauriel looked away. She did not want to feel the rush of emotions she got whenever his attention was focused on her. It disgusted her in a way she could not explain, but at the same time she craved it.

"Just remember," she said, emotionless, "that I spent five decades hating myself. And before that, I no longer wanted to live. If I could go back - I would. But I can't. Your hatred would have made little difference. You would be unable to say something that I had not already screamed at myself a million times in the darkness before dawn."

Legolas looked shaken.

She turned away, not wanting him to see the tears that burned in her eyes. "I sometimes wonder if it would have been easier for us all, had I died that day when I was but a child. Your father saved me, and at the same time he doomed me. My nonexistence would have saved us all much trouble."

He shook his head. "No -"

She whirled on him then, fighting against the ache in her chest. She pulled up her fury once more, letting it cover her like a shield. "Your tune is ever-changing, piper. Eventually, you will have to pick the song you will sing the rest of your days. And with the Shadow looming before us all, your days may be very short indeed."

* * *

 _"You've seen something."_

 _Audriel nodded calmly, looking her sister straight in the eye. "I have."_

 _"What of it?"_

 _She shrugged, a hand tracing the swell in her stomach. "The child will be a girl."_

 _Aruelle's face softened. She reached forward, placing a soft hand on top of Audriel's. "She will be strong, and healthy, too."_

 _Audriel turned her face away. "I saw something else, sister."_

 _Aruelle looked up, a question in her eyes._

 _Audriel stared into nothing, her green eyes shards of glass. "Not now - no, many, many years from now . . . there will be little but death. The time of the elves will end. The forests will turn to rot and disease, falling at out feet. War, again and again. So much blood spilled, " she whispered. "This world will crash and burn."_

* * *

Thranduil was pacing.

Back and forth, he walked the stone-carved hall. His boots slapped the floor hard, the sound almost a constant, so fast were his steps. His robe flared out behind him as he executed a sharp turn and began the journey back down the hallway.

His mind was spinning.

He had not yet heard from Audriel. The fact was worrisome, but it was not altogether unexpected. She had ever been unreliable, chasing the wind and changing her plans on mere whims. There was little he could do about it now. He had briefly considered sending out a warrant for her arrest, but the majority of the elven kingdoms considered her long dead. To state that she was indeed alive would cause nothing but chaos and paranoia.

He indulged himself in a single, vehement curse, then inhaled deeply. There were times that he wished he was not the Elvenking, though his pride often prevented him from admitting it. Though he was many centuries old, when it came to the matter of his son, he felt that he often started out on the wrong foot and finished barely ahead of the rest.

When it came to matters of the heart, he was even more hesitant. He could barely stand to remember what it felt like to love someone who was not Legolas, for Legolas was his son, and therefore came before all others. Admittedly, he had even put Legolas before his kingdom at times.

His mind flitted back across the thousands of years, searching for the warm, pleasant memories. He frowned as he realized that, in recent memory, they were few and far between.

There were plenty of Legolas, he knew. Almost as many of his wife. A precious few of Audriel.

And then Tauriel. Thranduil's frown deepened as he searched the images in his mind's eye, looking at the elleth's face. At times, she was upset, tears streaking down her face as she glared at him. There was one incident in particular that had stuck with him for an extended period of time.

She had been very young. Still nothing but a child. But she had looked at him, straight in the eye - for she had never been one to bow and simper around him - and had demanded why he didn't like her.

 _"You don't want me here,"_ she had said baldly.

He almost - almost - flinched at the memory. He could still hear her voice. She sounded so much older than she was.

She had looked like Audriel, back then. She still did, in a way, he thought idly.

She had looked him and had seen his distrust, his pain and fear even. And she had confronted him, her words plain, entirely without deception. So very different than her mother.

He wished he had known Aruelle. He had met her, once, but she had been freezingly cold towards him, though her courtesy had not faltered once.

Aruelle, he knew, was the one who had raised Tauriel. Tauriel had surely learnt much from her mother's sister.

The Elvenking sighed, fingering the cheek scarred by dragon-fire. He tried to push Legolas to the back of his mind, and failed.

He closed his eyes.

 _There is little I can do now. Just like her, I made my choice._

* * *

 _She ducked beneath the water, red hair floating out around her. Her eyes remained open, and the thin white gown she wore plastered itself to her skin._

 _The chill was welcomed, for it washed away the burning on her skin, if only for a little while._

 _She opened her mouth, safe in the knowledge that any sound she made would be muffled by the water._

 _She screamed._

* * *

Tauriel pushed through the door, positioning herself directly behind Aragorn.

"A great host, you say?" Theoden said heavily.

Aragorn inclined his head. "Aye. All of Isengard is emptied."

The king rubbed a hand down his face and turned away. "How many?"

"Ten thousand strong at least."

 _"Ten thousand?"_

Tauriel broke in. "It is an army bred for a single purpose: To destroy the world of Men."

"They will be here by nightfall," Aragorn said.

Theoden stilled for a moment, visibly shaken, then turned and walked away. "Let them come!" he growled.

Tauriel stared at him for a moment, seething at the arrogance his words held. Not for the first time, she bit back a red-hot lecture, and stepped away.

She looked at Aragorn, noting that the look on his face was not entirely unperturbed.

She closed her eyes for a long moment, wishing abruptly that she had seen some glimpse of what was to come.

 _The Shadow is coming for us all,_ she thought. _It is not just the world of Men he seeks to destroy. One step - just one step - off the line, and we will all fall._

* * *

 **The next two or three chapters will be about the battle! :D I will update as soon as I can.**

 **R &R, please!**


	26. Reborn

**Here's a new chapter (finally)! I apologize for the delay. My entire family got sick, myself included. I've spent the past week trying not to puke into a bucket. Needless to say, work and school did not exactly wait for me to get better, and I'm still catching up, LOL. Thank you all so, so much for your support! On to the reviews . . .**

 **goosebumps (and can I just say that I love your penname?!), PointyEars, guest, Warriorheart5, and guest, so glad y'all enjoyed it!**  
 **xXx3LegTaur4Evr and morgynstarlight, wait and see. ;)**  
 **annie, glad you enjoyed that scene! I admittedly struggled with it quite a bit; I feel that at times I don't do a very good job with fleshing out characters and maintaining their personalities.**

 **This chapter is a bit shorter than I would like, but denser than usual. And . . . well, we're still not at the battle. ...yet. I promise it's coming soon, though! I'm just trying to fill in stuff that I won't be able to cover in the actual fight scenes.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Tauriel trailed slightly behind the King, the man she had learnt was called Gamling, and Gimli, who was clearly making an effort to bite his tongue. Aragorn was speaking to someone quite a ways behind them, his brow furrowed. She glanced back once, then moved after her companions.

"I want every man and strong lad able to bear arms to be ready for battle by nightfall," Theoden growled, barely pausing. Gamling nodded. "We will cover the causeway and the gate from above. No army has ever breached the Deeping wall, or set foot inside the Hornburg!"

"This is no rabble of mindless Orcs," Gimli growled through his beard. "These are Uruk-hai. Their armor is thick and their shields broad."

Theoden turned to stare down at the dwarf, eyes freezingly cold. "I have fought many wars, Master Dwarf. I know how to defend my own keep."

Gimli looked as if he had suddenly swallowed something rotten.

Tauriel was scowling, more annoyed at Theoden's dismissive treatment of Gimli than anything else he had said in the previous five minutes of planning. "And what of the women?" she said calmly, her words clearly enunciated and delivered with force.

Theoden looked at her sharply. "They will go to the Caves, along with the elderly and children."

Tauriel raised a single brow. Standing straight, she was almost as tall as Theoden, and the fact was not lost on either of them.

He took a single step backwards. "If you propose we have them fight, you will be met with disappointment."

Her eyebrow lifted again, arching upwards and then falling once the message had been sent. "You think them weak, king?"

"No, no! But the women cannot fight alongside the rest of us."

She leaned closer, eyes burning into his own. "I am an elf-maiden," she said softly, her words lined with poison. "A woman. Would you make the mistake of saying that I am soft, weak?"

"Of course not!" His words were blustery and louder than required. Gimli was huffing out quiet laughs behind the king, his eyes bright underneath his helmet.

"Eowyn, then. You have already sent her off to hide from those she is in danger from. I have seen how she can fight. You are forcing her to waste her talent, and there are so very many more down there in the caves that know how to parry the thrust of a blade, and then stab their attacker through the heart." She stepped back. "Men are not the only ones who can fight, my lord." There was more than a hint of derision in her tone, and she knew that she was pushing things. "You would do well to remember that."

He was clearly taken aback. Women fighting alongside men was not an entirely reviled idea, at least in the world of Men. But it was certainly not a common occurrence, and the fact had often irritated Tauriel.

Shoving her annoyance down, she looked at Gimli, who was now looking mildly uncomfortable.

"I will take my leave, then," she said, dipping her head ever so slightly downwards.

She turned on her heel, ignoring the kindling rage in Theoden's eyes. She had established a clear dislike of the man within hours.

Aragorn stopped her with a gentle touch to her elbow. She looked at him in surprise. She had almost forgotten that he had accompanied them. "Aye?"

There was the smallest of smiles playing around his lips. "You would talk in such a way to a king?" he murmured, tilting his head towards Theoden.

"A king, yes. Not my king," she shot back. "I have no king, no realm I would call home, not any more. Even if he was my king, I would say the same to him - I have no time for pompous, arrogant fools." She acknowledged to herself that, when she was younger, she had had much the same opinion of the Elvenking. Her views had changed, but the memories were still bright - and she doubted Thranduil would have truly forgotten their many clashes, either.

Aragorn arched a brow. "Strong words."

Her lip curled. "Perhaps not strong enough."

He chuckled softly. "But never stronger than you." She looked at him sharply, trying to discern the meaning behind his words, but he revealed nothing. Aragorn clapped her on the shoulder. "And your strength will be vital in the coming battle." He stepped past her, moving to join Theoden and Gamling.

She shook her head, frowning. Her mind was whirling. If the women wished to fight, and were capable of fighting, she would find a way - someway, somehow - to let them fight. How, she did not yet know, but she was confident that there would be way.

She halted for a long moment, looking down at her clenched fists. The skin was toughened, covered with callouses after many long years of handling a variety of weapons. The wrist-guards that protected her forearms from the snap of the bowstring were still smooth, hiding the corded muscles in her forearms. Her daggers leaped from their sheaths into her hands, and she twirled them expertly. Though she did not know it, she was smiling.

Her smile was as razor-sharp as the blades she held.

* * *

Audriel slid easily from the marching ranks of elves, her glamour sliding off her face as if washed away by a pail of cold water.

Haldir fairly scowled at her, his brows dipping until they almost met.

She smiled at him. "I am flattered." Her words were pleasant, but as ever there was an unnerving undertone to it.

"Do you have something of importance to tell me?" The March-warden's tone was clipped.

She grinned, as if he had surprised her by guessing the answer to some question correctly. "Indeed I do. Tauriel - Seena - how do you know she will be there?"

"She will be there."

"That is not an answer to my question. If you will refuse to tell me, I have my own means of discovery. Unfortunately, they can be rather unpleasant for both parties." Her eyes were shooting green sparks, and Haldir avoided meeting her gaze.

"The Lady of the Wood assured me that Tauriel would indeed be participating in the battle. I have full confidence that she is correct."

Audriel rolled her eyes. "Ah, yes. Your unfaltering love and admiration for her. Does it never tire you, to be commanded about by one person?"

"I would not expect you to understand, _Half-elven_." His words were the closest they had ever come to a snarl, still mostly calm, but now with an undercurrent of anger.

She arched her brows. "Impressive. At least you have some fight left in you. You had best hope it stays with you through the battle."

He ignored her, jaw clenched.

She fell out of step with the taller elf, waiting until he could no longer hear her before hissing a few harsh, well chosen words underneath her breath.

Looking up, her smile was back in place, and as she moved back into the columns of marching elves, the glamour slid over her face once more, turning her hair silver and her eyes grey.

Her lies came easily, for in the end it would all be worth it.

At least, that was what she told herself.

* * *

"They will break upon this fortress like water on rock." Theoden was pacing. "Saruman's hordes will pillage and burn. We've seen it before. Crops can be resown, homes rebuilt. Within these walls we will outlast them."

"They do not come to destroy Rohan's crops or villages. They come to destroy its people, down to the last child."

Theoden spun, his hand grasping at the front of Aragorn's shirt, pulling him close. "What would you have me do?" he demanded in a low, rough voice. "Look at my men. Their courage hands by a thread. If this is to be our end, then I would have them make such an end as to be worthy of remembrance."

Aragorn stepped carefully away. "Send out riders, my lord. Call for aid."

"And who will come? Elves? Dwarves? We are not so lucky in our friends as you. The old alliances are dead."

"Gondor will answer," Aragorn said calmly.

"Gondor?" Theoden spat. "Where was Gondor when the Westfold fell?! Where was Gondor when our enemies closed in around us?! Where was Gon -" He stopped, calming himself with effort. "No, my Lord Aragorn, we are alone." He stepped away. "Get the women and children into the caves."

Gamling hesiated. "We need more time to lay provisions for -"

"There is no time," the King growled. "War is upon us."

* * *

"We Ents have not troubled about the wars of Men and wizards for a very long time. But now, something is about to happen that has not happened for an age. Entmoot."

Merry perked up. "What's that?"

"`Tis a gathering," Treebeard answered, his voice groaning like a trees' branches would in the midst of a great storm.

"A gathering of what?"

The distant creaks were becoming steadily louder. Merry glanced over his shoulder to see what they were from, but stopped, gaping.

Pippin swallowed hard, staring out at the great trees as they gathered amongst themselves, talking, whispering. He frowned as he imagined the Ents swinging their club-like limbs, smashing their feet into the ground. They would be an impressive sight, he knew.

"Beech. Oak. Chestnut," Treebeard croaked, "Ash. Good. Good. Good. Many have come. Now we must decide if the Ents will go to war."

Pippin smiled.

* * *

"Eowyn." Tauriel's voice was rough and low. "Eowyn!"

The girl frowned, wiping her hands on her apron before hurrying over to look Tauriel straight in the eye. "Yes, my lady?"

Tauriel scowled. "I am no lady." She had always had a certain contempt for the word, at least in that particular context.

Eowyn shrugged slightly, palms up. "What should I call you, then?"

There was a moment of silence. "Tauriel," she finally said. "The name given to me by my people is Tauriel, and as such that is how you should address me." The fragile truce she had presented to Eowyn was either ignored or not fully recognized by the girl, who nodded calmly and continued.

"And what is your bidding, Tauriel?"

"The women," she said softly. "How many can fight, and are willing to help defend their country?"

Eowyn's face brightened considerably. "There are a few of us. But most were never trained with a sword, and would be cut down in a moment. I would not ask it of them to throw their lives away."

Tauriel nodded, filing this piece of information on the girl's character away for later examination. "The King would hide you all away, and keep you from the battle. I do not agree with him on the matter."

Eowyn grinned. "You would let us fight."

She nodded, praying that she was not making a grave mistake. "Gather those amongst you who would be willing to carry a blade. I would ask it of you that only the best join the fighters. As you said, it would not be fair to them to have them throw their lives away."

Eowyn nodded, her eyes sparkling. "I will not fail you."

Tauriel nodded half-heartedly. "As you say. Find me when you are done. I will not have gone far."

* * *

"We'll place the reserves along the wall," Aragorn muttered, half to himself. "They can support the archers from above the gate."

Legolas stopped his pacing. "Aragorn, you must rest! You are no use to us half alive."

He scowled, opening his mouth to answer, but was interrupted.

"My lord! Aragorn!"

Aragorn turned.

Eowyn was approaching him, trailed by a small group of women in split-skirts with swords hanging from their waists. His eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Aye?"

"Where is Tauriel?" she asked, eyes flicking about the room.

Tauriel rolled her eyes, peeling herself away from the shadows and pulling back the cowl of her hood. "I was wondering if you had been successful in your attempts."

Eowyn sucked in a surprised breath at Tauriel's unexpected appearance. She watched as the red-haired elf paced smoothly towards them, hair pulled severely back from her face. Her features were all sharp angles and deep hollows, the weight of time and memory lending age to her eyes and a sadness to the tilt of her mouth. She looked deadly, but also as if she had lost much life.

"My la - Tauriel," she corrected herself. "We are here, as you requested."

Tauriel's eyes flicked over the assembled women. Many appeared nervous, and most were middle aged. There was one woman who was older, with skin like parchment and silvery-white hair. She still stood tall and proud, despite her advancing years.

Tauriel halted in front of her. "Do you have children?" she asked softly. "Grandchildren, perhaps?"

She smiled, wrinkles spreading out from her face. "One. A boy. His parents passed on last winter."

"And if you were to fight today?"

There was a immediate rush of noise from behind them, most recognizably from Aragorn, who had begun to splutter in what she hoped was purely confusion. Tauriel frowned, raising a hand for silence.

The woman lifted her chin. "I would do it well. I've been serving my people for many a year now, and I will do so until my dying breath."

Tauriel felt a flash of resentment that time would take such a proud, strong figure from the world, but knew that it was the way of life. "You are an inspiration," she said softly. And the woman smiled, her eyes lighting up at the simple words of praise.

For the first time in a long while, Tauriel felt it - a little burst of flame as she, a natural-born leader, stood tall and looked at those who she knew would follow her, even to the death. There was a great weight of responsibility, and a burning guilt that would follow should they fall in battle, but she had finally slipped back into her place.

She turned to Aragorn. "They will fight at my side, if they wish it. I will brook no argument. The King's way has been the only way for far too long, it seems."

Aragorn opened his mouth for a moment, and she braced herself for a flood of arguments. But he just heaved a sigh of what almost seemed like defeat, and stepped forward, clapping her on the shoulder as he smiled. "Legolas was right when he said that you are not one to bow down to those above you," he said in her ear. "Your fire burns brightly in this darkness." There was a pause, then, "Arwen would say that you have finally stopped your fall."

Tauriel's eyes flicked up at Aragorn's words, then focus beyond him, meeting Legolas's gaze. Legolas's grey eyes met hers for only a second, but it was long enough.

 _He is - proud?_

She had barely an instant to comprehend it before he had turned away, and she looked back at Aragorn.

"Theoden will not be entirely accepting of this," he said, a hint of worry in his voice. "I have no argument here; indeed, I am nothing if not pleased ." He dipped his head. " _Lotesse i' valar will lle ilya a' be varna._ "

Eowyn turned to Tauriel, a question in her eyes. Her fingers were clutching the hilt of her sword nervously.

"I will talk to the King," Tauriel said. "If he wants my blade, he will let you fight."

Eowyn nodded, just once. "Thank you."

* * *

"Farmers, farriers, stable boys. These are no soldiers."

"Most have seen too many winters," Gimli said gruffly.

"Or too few," Legolas put in. "Look at them. They're frightened. You can see it in their eyes."

Tauriel winced, watching as many of the men turned to stare at Legolas. His words had struck a blow in their armor. She turned to him, opening her mouth to protest, but was cut off.

 _"Boe a hyn neled herain dan caer menig!"_

 _"Si beriathar hyn ammaeg na ned Edoras,"_ Aragorn shot back.

 _"Aragorn, nedin dagor hen ú-'erir ortheri. Natha daged dhaer!"_ Legolas's words were filled with a strange regret, and Tauriel found herself rethinking her stance on having the women fight. If - no, when - they fell, their blood would be on her hands. . .

Aragorn's temper snapped. "Then I shall die as one of them!"

The temperature in the room seemed to plummet. The already weakened morale of the troops dipped even further, for Aragorn's words had left little doubt in their minds about what Legolas had said.

Aragorn turned away, his jaw set. Legolas made as if to stride after him, but Gimli stopped him. "Let him go, lad. Let him be."

Tauriel shook her head. "He does fear for them," she said to Legolas, picking her words - in Elvish, this time - carefully. "And he has every reason to do so."

"But to let them fight - like this, knowing that many will fall, knowing that the battle is not in our favor - I cannot see how -"

She looked him straight in the eye. "You have never truly commanded a battle, have you? The guilt you carry with you when those who follow you fall - it is a heavy burden. It is also one we must all learn to bear. Know that Aragorn is doing the best he can."

* * *

"My lord?"

"Who am I, Gamling?" Theoden was motionless, his eyes dull as he stared out into the nothingness.

"You are our king, sire."

"And do you trust your king?"

"Your men, my lord, will follow you to whatever end."

He exhaled, his shoulders straightening almost imperceptibly. " _To whatever end."_

* * *

 **I know that, in having the women fight underneath Tauriel, I am stretching things quite a bit. I am also a bit torn on if the scenes should remain. Depending on my own thoughts on the matter, the response I receive, and how I feel the plot should continue, I may or may not remove this from the fic.**

 **As ever, I welcome your thoughts, opinions, rants and raves. :)**


	27. Stone Cold

**Finally, an update! And we hit 200 reviews this last chapter. I'm still in shock. Seriously. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.**  
 **On to the reviews!**

 **Marshmellow, thanks! I'm over the hump, but I still have a ways to go before I'm 100%. Sigh.**  
 **guest and , so glad you enjoyed it!**  
 **ClaraS, hopefully they will!**  
 **hopeleselfaddict, I PMed you. Yes, I totally stalked your pen-name down, LOL. No, that is not supposed to be creepy at all. :p**  
 **Lynn86, thank you! And to your sister (even though this will sound a little weird, coming from a complete online stranger, and I know you will likely never read this) - _thank you._  
Guest, I can definitely see how it could be confusing! At times, I can get a little mixed up as well, LOL. I will be explaining a lot of it later on, and when TBE is done, I'll be posting a family tree, of sorts. Hope this helps! :)**

 **This chapter is long. *does a quick happy dance***  
 **It also has a few things in it that most people won't be very happy about. And trust me when I say that I wasn't either. But, it was time, sooo...**

* * *

Aragorn stepped quietly between the men, watching their faces, seeing how their eyes were downcast and their steps slow.

He halted at the side of a young man - no, a boy - examining his freshly-hewn blade.

Aragorn held out his hand. "Give me your sword."

The boy started, looking up. His eyes were big and brown, his face streaked with mud. He extended his arm, and Aragorn noted that he, at least, had enough sense to hand it over hilt-first.

"What is your name?" he asked.

The boy ducked his head. "Haleth, son of Hama, my lord." There was a pause. He glanced furtively upwards, then said, "The men are saying we will not live out the night. They are saying that it is hopeless."

Aragorn did not meet Haleth's gaze. He flipped the sword expertly in his hand, testing the balance of the blade.

"This is a good sword," he finally said. He returned it. The boy was still looking at him, a flicker of doubt in his eyes. Aragorn hesitated, then said quietly, "Haleth, son of Hama - there is always hope."

* * *

Legolas was pacing.

Again.

Tauriel felt as if she might finally give in to her irritation and either scream at him or clap him over the head with the hilts of her daggers.

He was relentless. And she could not understand it. He had been in battle many, many a time before. Surely his nerves were not being stretched so tight as to fail.

She scowled at the floor.

She was not quite nervous. Not yet. The fear would come right before the battle, and then would quickly disappear, replaced by a deep, instinctual calm and a lust to see the blood of her enemies spilled.

Her confrontation with Theoden had left her feeling slightly surprised. The king had barely lifted his eyes to meet hers when she had told him of her plans and demands.

All the arrogance was gone.

He was scared. Not necessarily for himself, but for his people.

That, at least, she had a grudging respect for.

Then again, she had not told him the whole truth. She had not told him that Eowyn would be fighting. The risk was too great; he would have to find out after the battle - and that was assuming any of them made it through the night.

Legolas's footsteps stopped.

Tauriel heaved a sigh of relief at the blessed, blessed silence, even if it was only temporary, then crossed her arms over her chest and stood to face him. "You are worried about Aragorn."

"Yes," Legolas said, but she knew somehow that it wasn't the whole story.

"And?" she demanded sharply.

He inhaled almost shakily. "And there is something I should tell you."

She frowned. "Aye?"

He fingered the fletching on one of his arrows, swallowing hard. "My father sent word. There have been new . . . developments."

Tauriel's eyes drilled into him, though he did not meet her gaze. "What of them?"

"I should have told you before, I admit. I have known for years, though my father did not give me permission to confirm it to you until a single moon ago. It may come as something of a - shock."

Her hands were starting to clench and unclench repeatedly. Her pulse had risen, and she had a strange and terrible certainty that something had gone very, very wrong. Her immediate thought had been that Boromir had passed on, but if he had known for such a long time there was no way it was even a possibility.

There was silence, and he was refusing to meet her gaze.

The tension rose. Now she was the one pacing, the one whose heart beat faster than it should, the sound pounding in her ears.

"Legolas." The word burst from her, much louder than she had intended, and she immediately regretted her loss of control.

"Tauriel. Look at me."

Unwillingly, she lifted her eyes to his, jaw clenching in time to her fists.

"Your banishment has been lifted."

She blinked hard. The words had not yet sunken in, and then they hit her like a load of bricks. She staggered backwards, her vision going black-and-white as she stared incredulously at him. "I - I can go home."

He stared at her solemnly. "Aye." There was a pause, then, "Are you well?"

Her legs threatened to give way, and she sank slowly to the hard floor. Her eyes were closed, her breath coming hard and fast. "The forest - I can go back to it."

Images flashed behind her closed lids, promises of a new life - perhaps even a better one.

She opened her eyes. "You knew."

He swallowed. "I did."

Anger ensnared her, hot and bright. "You have known, all this time." Her voice had dropped, and she rose, standing ramrod straight as she faced him.

Legolas winced, likely guessing at what was to come. "Aye."

"And you did not tell me."

He spread his hands, palms facing upwards, a look on his face that pleaded with her to understand, and to forgive him.

She hardened her heart against the pain she saw and took several rapid steps towards him, staring him straight in the eye. They were nearly the same height, and she knew that when she so desired she was incredibly intimidating.

"You lied to me this time." The words were brutally delivered, and she had a vague thought that she would regret this, eventually, but pushed it aside. "After so much talk about my lies and falsehoods, and how you could not forgive me, you lied. To me."

His gaze clouded over. "I had no choice."

She laughed bitterly. "Ironic, is it not? I lie to you, you lie to me, and we forever walk in circles. What will be the price this time, Legolas? For there is always a price, and even if you are not willing to pay it, you will have a debt."

His eyes still met hers steadily, open and honest - everything she knew he was not, could not be, and it enraged her. She took a single step back, for she realized she was suddenly very close to him - close enough that his breaths stirred her hair, warm and familiar enough that it made her chest ache.

Abruptly, she was tired.

So very, very tired, and the world had once again drained itself of all color.

The exhaustion swept over her like a breaking wave as her legs buckled beneath her. She dropped to her knees, wanting to weep but refusing to give those who had hurt her the satisfaction.

Legolas took a half-step forward, almost as if he was going to try and comfort her.

Tauriel lifted her head and met his gaze icily. Words flowed off her tongue, freezing and hard as stone. "I once thought that I, and I alone, had ruined what once might have been between us." She forced herself to stand, to meet his eyes without flinching. "I also once hoped that, in time, I could heal the damage I inflicted. I know now I was wrong. It was both of us, though we may not have realized it at the time. I have torn myself apart over it all, night after night, day after day. No longer. Until the truth is all we are willing to share with each other, I am done. Done with the half-truths, and the paths that spiral endlessly. I can only hope you feel the pain I once did," she added bitterly, "and that you sink as far as I fell."

Legolas opened his mouth to say something, but she lifted a hand to halt him.

"And to think," she said, softer now, and quieter, "that I had finally begun allowing myself to care for you again." She turned quickly, striding from the room. Her boots clapped against the floor harshly, and only when her face was turned away did she allow a single teardrop to slide down her cheek.

"Tauriel -"

She stopped. "Your words will mean naught, Legolas. Do not try to seek me out, for my temper has been sorely tried already. Goodbye."

He made as if to follow her, then halted. "Your mother," he said to the empty room. "I did not tell you about your mother."

* * *

Tauriel forced herself to stare at the wall, forced her eyes to remain flinty and her heart to stay stone cold.

If she were not so stubborn, she would have admitted to herself that it was pointless.

Legolas had hurt her deeply. The woodland was the one thing that she had been able to cling to even in her darkest days, and she had often wondered if they were one and the same - once bright and ever-green, and now lost in shadow.

The Greenwood had been a living, breathing thing to her, and then it had been ripped away.

She still remembered the feeling of the trees' bark underneath her fingertips, of the low humming in her ears as she moved with the gentle sway of their branches.

And she remembered the slow, methodical sweep of a dull blade across her wrists, falling, the taste of blood in her mouth, all will to live utterly swept away.

Remembered the feel of her very life-blood draining from her body. Each pulse of her heart, as it tried to keep her alive, only accelerated the process.

Branches reaching out to save her, even though she had known with what little was left of her consciousness that it was not enough.

 _Darkness_.

* * *

Legolas entered the room hesitantly, watching silently for long moments as Aragorn prepared himself for the coming battle.

Slowly, he slipped up behind him and reached for his sword. Aragorn turned in surprise, then stopped.

Legolas dipped his head. "We have trusteed you this far. You have not led us astray. Forgive me - I was wrong to despair."

Aragorn stared at him for a long moment, and then clapped him on the shoulder, hard. Legolas thought dully that it was the same gesture he had given Tauriel, several times, and then considered that perhaps Aragorn was becoming a bit too fond of it.

 _"Ú-moe edaved, Legolas,_ " he said simply.

Legolas offered him a half-hearted smile.

There was a rustle of chainmail from the doorway, and they both turned.

Gimli huffed out an indignant sigh, wrestling with the sheet of mail as it fell awkwardly across his chest. "If we had time, I'd get this adjusted," he growled.

He dropped the chainmail, and it clattered clear to the floor.

The dwarf sniffed. "It's a little tight across the chest."

* * *

 _Bow._

 _Quiver._

 _Arrows._

 _Daggers._

 _Throwing knives._

Tauriel surveyed the collection of weapons before her with weak satisfaction. Gathering and preparing her weapons before a battle had always been calming for her. In this case, they brought back too many memories.

Legolas had trained her with the bow and arrow for a long time. And she had returned the favor with the daggers, the only two weapons she had carried with her for her entire life.

But that had been many a year ago, and all that had remained of their easy companionship in those days was gone.

She sighed.

The throwing knives were a relatively new addition to her arsenal. Most elves did not bother carrying them, seeing the small blades almost as an insult to their skill.

Tauriel had considered their reasoning for a month or so during her wanderings of the lands in the past five decades, and concluded that she would much rather have the option of taking down an enemy from several feet away rather than grappling with them in hand-to-hand combat.

If, she reasoned, she ever ran out of arrows and was entirely over-run by adversaries, she would need to take some of them down before they reached her.

Throwing her daggers - the only possession that remained from her childhood and her time with the Guard - was entirely out of the question. She would sooner loose an arm or leg then loose her the twin blades.

So she turned to the throwing knives. They were small and surprisingly light-weight. It took her some time to be able to accurately calculate her aim, but with some practice she found they were highly useful.

Perhaps the most alluring part, at least for her, was the fact that she could carry dozens of them across her person at one time, along with her other weapons.

Kneeling, she slipped a half-dozen into each boot, then shrugged out of her tunic and started strapping on armor. She had opted to remain with her leather armor in the stead of heavy, bulky chainmail.

Strapping it across her chest, she smoothed her underclothing and then reached for the tightly woven green tunic. As soon as that and her wrist guards were in place, she was strapping on scabbards for her remaining throwing knives.

Tauriel slung her quiver of arrows across the notch in her belt, and guided the daggers to their place on the opposite side. Her bow would be slung across her back when not in use.

She strode across the room to the mirror, and almost recoiled.

She barely recognized herself.

She had never worried about her appearance - indeed, the only time she had fretted over how she might look was when she had been wearing her glamour - but for the first time, it was foreign to her.

Her face was pale and drawn, the white of her skin standing out even more against her hair. Braids pulled her long red locks severely back from her face, and then they fell down past her knees.

Her skin was still smooth and unmarred, though it was drawn tight across her cheekbones. Even if she had looked closely, she would not have found a line.

But it was her eyes that she could not become accustomed to.

They were dark, darker than she had ever seen them. They were still green, but now the color had turned murky. Her pupils were blown out, making them look even bigger in her pale face.

She stared at herself for another long, long moment, then jerked away. A single thought drifted through her mind, though she paid it no heed. _I look like Lord Elrond._

And then abruptly, a horn sounded.

Her head jerked up, the tightness around her mouth loosening. At first, she was incredulous, but then it faded into relief - and wonder.

It was an Elvish horn.

* * *

Audriel fumed in silence as the horn blew, the sound reverberating through her very bones. It had once held a strange call to her, something in it that would set her body humming and aching for a fight. Now, though, she cared little for it. It was both a greeting and a warning, she knew, and did not care.

She heard those beyond the gate start to call out, and almost smiled.

 _Good_ , she thought. _They are scared._

But the gate rose, and she felt a vague twitch of disappointment when she saw no one of importance waiting to greet them.

She waited for Haldir to give the signal, standing calmly to one side, her glamour and attire lending her no recognization. She was just another elven soldier to those who were watching.

There was a sudden pounding of booted feet, and Men began streaming into the courtyard. Amongst them she saw Theoden King, the Ranger, and then -

 _Interesting_.

Thranduil's son was there, his face not entirely unlike his father's, though his bearing was different. She stared at him with interest, measuring his worth.

There was another scuffle of movement as a group of women began to push through.

It took her a moment to see who was leading the group. But when she finally registered it, the breath was knocked from her lungs.

 _Seena_.

* * *

Tauriel shoved her way through the crowd, rushing towards the cloaked elves that surely, surely, were here to help. Her heart was fairly beating its way out of her chest.

Eowyn was at her right side, the rest of the women behind her. She was barely able to restrain herself, but halted at Aragorn's side.

"How is this possible?" Theoden rasped, disbelief coloring his voice.

Haldir - she recognized him, now, and it sent a thrill through her - stepped forward. "I bring word from Elrond of Rivendell," he said, and a flash of confusion hit her.

Tauriel was silent, sorting through what she did and did not know.

"And alliance once existed between Elves and Men," the marchwarden continued. "Long ago, we fought and died together. We come to honor that allegiance." A small smile was curving his mouth upwards, and Tauriel was once again confused. In her time spent at the Golden Wood, and the hours she had spent sparring with him, she had never seen him smile - not once. He was much like Thranduil in that respect.

Aragorn stepped forward. _"Mae govannen, Haldir,"_ he said, and hugged the elf.

Tauriel was sorely tempted to laugh at the look on Haldir's face, but he relaxed enough to pat Aragorn on the back before stepping hastily away.

Aragorn did not seem to take offense. "You are most welcome here," he said, smiling.

There was a solid thunk, coupled by a hiss of movement, as the assembled elves turned and slammed their bows into the ground.

Haldir smiled again. "We are proud to fight along side Men once more."

Theoden could do no more then shake his head, and even Legolas looked surprised, though Tauriel was careful to avoid his gaze.

A single elf stepped forward, sliding the hood of their cloak back as they removed their helmet. Long silver hair rippled down their back. Tauriel lifted her eyes to the elf's face, and then shook herself.

Color was flooding back into the elf's once-silver, now red, hair.

Red.

 _Blood-red._

Her eyes flew back up to the elleth's face, registering the now-green eyes and milky skin.

 _A face the shape of a moon._

She choked on a question, shock flooding through her.

The elleth held out a hand. A tentative smile touched her mouth. " _Tauriel_?" she said in an almost-whisper. " _Amin tinu_?"

* * *

 ***gasps* I wonder who that could be?! *insert sarcasm here***

 **Ahem. So yeah. I re-wrote this chapter a lot. Like, ten times. And I still don't feel I really got it right, so I apologize. I've been focusing on smoothing the previous chapter out, actually, and that is what in part took this update so long.**

 **Get ready for the fight!**


	28. Born to Die

**Well, I got an update for y'all! It's still a bit rough around the edges, but after all the support y'all sent my way I thought you deserved a treat. ;)  
And a huge shout-out to DarthFissure95 for looking over this chapter and pointing out some errors. I highly recommend you check out his fics. **

**On to the reviews! Some I have replied to privately.  
Theekshana, annie, and ****xXx3LegTaur4Evr, glad you enjoyed it! annie - LOL, yes he should have**.  
 **ElvesRule and Proud2Bgeek, there's a Haldir scene in this chapter for y'all. I will have at least one next chapter, and possibly quite a few flashbacks as well. I wish I could let him live, but unfortunately I've kinda pushed things far enough by letting Boromir make it this long. *sobs* Ah, well.**  
 **Warriorheart5, wait and see about Boromir. ;) I wish I could tell you, but that's something of a big plot reveal.**  
 **guest, yes! Let loose the kraken! Love that. XD**  
 **neebieone, maybe!**  
 **Elvenses, wait and see. ;)**

 **There are a few trigger warnings in the flashback. Please keep that in mind while reading.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Tauriel turned, faces blurring past as she sought Legolas's eyes.

He looked at her, and he saw the betrayal painted over her features like a mask.

To everyone else, she would look calm, her face carefully neutral, her bearing poised.

But he knew her, and he knew that when she looked so very collected was when she was hurting the most.

Something told him that it would be near impossible to come back from this.

He knew that she knew that he had known.

The thought was so convoluted that he choked down a dry laugh and then swallowed, hard, as his eyes flicked back to the elf standing before Tauriel.

 _Audriel._

The elf followed her daughter's gaze, and suddenly Legolas found himself pinned down by a steely-green glare that was unnervingly like Tauriel's and yet was not.

Audriel was mostly what he had been told to expect. Red hair, milk-pale skin, and a moon-like face with small, oddly attractive features. Her nose was a bit too small, her lips and eyes a bit too big.

But nothing could have prepared him for the sharp, deadly contrast to her almost child-like features. Her face was not sharp angles as Tauriel's was, but everything else about Audriel was that and more.

Tendons stood out in her neck even as she stood there, staring at him, and her body was coiled tightly. Her steps, he knew, would be taken in almost a half-crouch, though he had never seen her move before.

Audriel looked at him for another long, long moment, and then she smiled.

It lasted a mere heartpulse.

But it was enough to send chills racing across his skin and to set warning bells clanging in his mind.

He hurriedly looked away, feeling as if the elf had read him like an open book. His eyes flicked back to Tauriel, who was now turning to the girl beside her - Eowyn? - and saying something in a low, terse whisper.

The girl nodded, and then murmured something back.

Tauriel spun, hair whipping across her shoulders, and moved quickly towards Haldir.

He was not yet close enough to hear the words she uttered, but as Haldir turned to move away with her, Legolas saw that the marchwarden was not surprised.

If anything, there was a look of mildly weary resignation, almost expectation, on his features.

He frowned at that, and started to look back towards Audriel.

She was not there.

He scanned the crowd again, worry bubbling up into his throat. Thranduil had warned him explicitly about the elleth, and he did not intent to take his father's words lightly.

"Legolas Greenleaf."

The voice was soft, almost musical, and the tone was musing.

Legolas whirled, hands automatically reaching for his long daggers.

Audriel chuckled throatily. "Fear not, princeling. I swore a vow to your father that I would find you and watch over you. Unless I am otherwise inclined, I will hold to it."

Her words, of course, did nothing to ease his worry and distrust.

"You are Tauriel's mother," he said flatly, and the words were not a question.

She smiled, and for a moment her eyes shone bright with gladness. The expression threw him off-balance - he had not expected her to actually care for her daughter. "Aye," she said simply.

"Why did you not tell her of your survival earlier?" Legolas demanded.

She smiled again, but it was no longer kind. Her teeth were slightly pointed, he noticed. "Why did you not tell her of her lifted banishment?"

His face hardened. "I had no other choice."

Audriel snorted derisively. "There is always a choice, princeling. Never forget that."

Legolas stared at her for a long moment, torn between irritation and curiosity. "You would not understand," he finally said.

She whirled on him, and though she was a good head shorter, she was able to look down her nose at him. "Do not pretend to know what I do and do not understand, princeling."

He met her gaze calmly, though there was a spark of nervousness deep in his chest. Audriel's skill with a sword was apparently unmatched, according to his father, and her temper was explosive.

"You think I don't know?" Audriel murmured sweetly. "I read that letter before it was even sent, Legolas. I know what your father said."

He paled, frozen as he stared down at her.

She smiled, sickeningly sweet, and patted him on the arm. "Unfortunately, you lost your chance. You left her too long, my dear. What she saw as a betrayal on your part was the last straw." Audriel sighed. "She has always been one for temper-tantrums, I am afraid, though she never learnt to curb her tongue. Her anger will fade, but her words will not. And she will not step forward - she is far too stubborn for that. It will be up to you, I believe." She peered at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "I am sorry."

Legolas looked at her in disgust, and in that moment he understood exactly why his father had been so reluctant to let his son have anything to do with this elf's daughter.

"No," he said icily. "You cannot understand, for you have never loved anyone but yourself and the things you desire."

Something passed over Audriel's features, and suddenly her eyes were green fire, and he knew that she hated him - hated him with everything she was. "You are wrong. I have loved deeper than you will ever be capable of loving, and those things were ripped from me. All I have left is my daughter, and she has been taken from me before. She is all I have left," she repeated. "Heed my words, Legolas Greenleaf - while I still draw breath, you _will not steal her from me_."

Audriel fell back, breathing heavily, and there was a mad light in her eyes. She closed them for a moment, and Legolas watched in appalled silence as her face changed, melting into a different being, then another, and another. Finally, she wrenched her lids open - her features now all strong bones and dark hair - and stared at him, her eyes the only feature that was left unchanged. Her masks were her shield against the world, her only comfort. She had been living a lie for so long she no longer had a choice.

And suddenly, Legolas pitied her.

He hated himself for it.

* * *

Tauriel sagged against a wall, her back scraping against the harsh stone.

"Why?" she rasped to Haldir. "Why did you do this? She is dead - she is dead for centuries now, and I cannot look at the elf who wears her face and lie."

Haldir looked at her, almost apologetically. "But it is not a lie, Daughter of the Forest."

Her head snapped around as she glared at him. " _Do not call me that_!"

A single brow slowly lifted in a wordless question.

Tauriel lifted her hands up to her face, fighting to keep them still and failing miserably. They were shaking like leaves in a harsh wind, and she could barely breathe around the lump in her throat. Each time she inhaled, her lungs felt as if they were about to burst into flames. "I cannot be tied to a forest that is no longer a part of me," she whispered. "It hurts too much."

Haldir nodded once, accepting her words as fact, and clasped his hands behind his back. "Audriel is indeed alive, Tauriel. And you cannot look me in the eyes and say you did not once suspect that she still breathed."

Tauriel exhaled shakily. "No," she said. "I cannot. But why? Why bring her here now? My life has already broken once, and I feel as if I am still stepping on the sharp shards." There was a sudden desperation to her voice as she looked at him and whispered, "Why did she not come for me?"

The marchwarden bowed his head. "I am sorry."

She brushed angrily at her eyes, refusing to let a single tear fall from them. She would not cry over someone who had never cried for her.

"The face she wears," she finally asked. "Is it her real one?"

"Aye."

"She wore another, I believe, when I met her in the Golden Wood. I did not know it was her then. I recognize her voice now, and the way she moves. I cannot understand why she did not tell me," she said softly. "I would have welcomed her; she is my _mother_."

"Perhaps she, too, was scared. She has long hidden behind her many faces, and I cannot imagine her wanting to finally strip herself clean of all the lies and face you as herself." Haldir turned away, almost uncomfortable as he faced Tauriel's emotions, then paused and turned back. He dipped his head, one hand over his heart. " _Lotesse i' anar ar' giliath gide lle e' i' tulien dagora._ "

He was gone.

Tauriel turned and leaned her forehead against the cool stone, welcoming the bite of it as it pressed against her flesh.

Automatically, her hands fumbled for her wrists, and then slid upwards to her throat. Choking on a gasp of self-loathing, she brushed her fingertips across the slightly raised skin.

And she remembered.

* * *

 _The blades flipped rhythmically up and out of her hands, spinning once before she caught them hilt-first. They reflected moonlight, splintering the darkness with splashes of silvery light._

 _A sudden gale of laughter from the near-by tavern hit her, and she winced._

 _Sheathing the blades, she stared down at her hands for a long moment. The bandages had finally come away, and now she was left with a reminder of yet another failure._

 _She could not understand why she was not fading._

 _She_ wanted _to fade._

 _But she was not, and so now she had finally worked up enough courage to take the final step._

 _Slowly, she slid a blade from her belt. It was thinner, lighter, and razor sharp. She inhaled shakily, and began to raise it to her throat._

 _It pressed lightly against her skin- cool and slim, gently pricking her neck._

 _Her hand was trembling - hard._

 _She shook herself._

 _Told herself that she was strong enough for this, at least._

 _Then the blade sliced across her throat and the world was suddenly three million different shades of color, all of them grays._

 _. . . . ._

 _Blinding light._

 _. . . . ._

Darkness _._

 _. . . ._

 _She awoke after what seemed centuries had passed._ Everything _hurt. She lifted a hand weakly to her face and prayed that she was dead._

 _But then she moved her head, and promptly felt blood begin to spill from the cut across her throat._

 _She whimpered._

 _It_ hurt _._

 _She attempted to raise her head, but fell back._

 _Once again, she was faced with failure and life without anything she loved._

 _And another scar, another mark upon her skin that would always be there to remind her exactly how far she fell._

* * *

Gimli grunted. "You could have picked a better spot."

Legolas glanced down at him with mild, almost reluctant, amusement. "Perhaps I could have."

Aragorn stepped up behind them, scanning the lands beyond the wall. The night was filled with the sound of marching feet and the clang of weapons.

Gimli glanced up at him. "Well, lad, whatever luck you live by, let's hope it lasts the night."

Legolas nodded, his mind drifting towards two red-haired elleths, both with either anger or hatred for him in their hearts. He winced and hurriedly turned his attention back towards the dwarf and Aragorn. "Your friends are with you, Aragorn."

The dwarf muttered something into his beard. Raising his voice, he added, "Let's hope _they_ last the night."

* * *

Eowyn threw herself down the stairs, paying no heed to the shocked looks men were giving her. She had to find Tauriel - the battle was about to begin; she could feel it, a humming in her blood and bones, both a warning and a promise.

She threw open a door and slipped inside, closing it behind her.

There was a quick flash of movement, and Eowyn ducked with a cry as a blade hissed through the air and stuck, quivering, in the wood of the door at her back.

Tauriel faced her, blades in both hands, blood streaking her face and a wild light in her eyes.

Eowyn gasped in horror and shock.

" _Tauriel_ ," she rasped. "Tauriel - no. It's me." Her heart felt as if it might pound its way out of her chest. Time had slowed, and everything around her had faded away.

" _No_ ," Tauriel echoed eerily. " _It's me_."

The blades clattered to the floor, and Eowyn gasped again as color returned to the world, pulling air into her lungs as she plucked the blade from the door and rushed forward.

Tauriel shook herself, and slowly the gleam in her eyes disappeared.

She looked at Eowyn and then staggered backwards, her face going gray. " _It's me,_ " she whispered, and then hunched into herself. "I'm sorry. So, so _sorry_."

Eowyn stared at her, registering the heartache in her eyes and made as if to reach out and touch the elleth's shoulder.

Before she could do so, Tauriel stood straight, her jaw firming and her shoulders squaring. She bent to pick the blades up off the floor. Her face was strangely blank for a moment, and then the look cleared.

"The battle has started," she said. "We must go."

* * *

Tauriel stood silently, staring out into the darkness.

Eowyn stood to her left side, and beyond her the other women were gathered. Most were pale and drawn, clutching their weapons tightly. To her right, several feet away, Legolas and Gimli stood calmly.

There was a sudden rush of sound in her ears, and the strange echo that had been plaguing her faded.

"You are in need of someone at your other side."

She flinched at the sound but did not turn. "I am."

She imagined that her mother was nodding calmly, and then would step into place.

The soft steps at her side confirmed her expectations. They stood in silence, the air tense around them.

"I am sorry," Audriel finally said.

Tauriel looked at her sharply but said nothing. She sensed that Eowyn had turned to look at them as well.

"I know that this must be a shock for you," Audriel continued in a low voice.

"Aye," Tauriel finally said numbly. "I thought you dead."

"I am sorry."

There was silence for another long minute.

"I can teach you," Audriel said. "About our family. Your heritage. And - the woodland."

Tauriel spun to face her, and above them the clouds finally gave in and released a sudden downpour of rain. They were all soaked to the skin in moments.

"The woodland," Tauriel repeated, feeling a stabbing sensation in her chest as she said the words. She cared little for her heritage, but with her banishment lifted, she felt as if there was a small possibility she could once again return to what had once been the Greenwood.

"Aye." Audriel nodded. "A piece of you is still tied to the forest. If you ever wish -"

" _A Eruchîn, ú-dano i faelas a hyn an uben tanatha le faelas!"_ someone cried over the pounding of the rain, cutting Audriel off.

 _Aragorn_ , Tauriel thought.

There was an answering roar from the darkness.

"What's happening out there?" someone demanded, and she quickly recognized the voice as Gimli's.

"Shall I describe it to you?" Legolas asked, his voice fading periodically due to the wind. "Or would you like me to find you a box?"

Tauriel nearly smiled. She could only imagine Gimli's reaction to _that_.

The steady pounding was getting louder. The Uruk-hai were taunting.

And then she heard the slithering hiss of an arrow as it arced away into the night.

" _Dartho_!" Aragorn roared.

She strained her ears, and heard a solid thump.

There was instant silence from both sides.

And then a blood-curdling scream of hatred from the Uruk-hai, and a pounding of feet and weapons.

"This is it," Tauriel murmured, half to herself. "This is the beginning of the end."

 _"Tandafo a chadad!_ " Aragorn called.

 _"Tandado a chadad!"_ another elf repeated, carrying the message on.

Tauriel nocked her bow, pulling it to a full draw as she aimed at one of the bigger, uglier Uruks. All around her she could hear the creak of bowstrings as her kin prepared to fire.

 _"Faeg i-varv dîn na lanc a nu ranc,"_ Legolas said, his voice whipped away by the wind.

 _"Faeg i-varv dîn na lanc a nu ranc!"_ Tauriel called, raising her voice high.

A pause, impossibly long but lasting only a second. It set her heart to racing. Beside her, Audriel had three arrows nocked on her bow. Eowyn was fidgeting nervously.

 _"Hado i philinn!"_ Aragorn thundered.

A hiss, and the arrows leaped away into the night.

"Did they hit anything?" Gimli demanded. Tauriel heard no answer, so took it upon herself to reply.

"Yes," she said, letting the heat of the battle take her over. She nocked another arrow in a single, fluid movement. "Oh, yes."

"Fire!"

 _"Fire!"_

The orders were for Theoden's men, not the elves. She cared little either way. She was picking off as many Uruk-hai as she possibly could, and though she did not know it, a feral grin had parted her lips.

 _"Hado ribed!"_

Another hiss of arrows as they sliced through the air and slammed into their targets.

And then there was a deadly thunk of a crossbow, and Tauriel nocked and drew another arrow as she looked for the creature holding that particularly evil weapon.

 _There_.

She fired, but it was not soon enough. Already, the heavy bolts had taken down two of her kin. Her blood boiled as she snapped off another three arrows, but the action did little to ease her anger.

" _Pendraith_!"

Tauriel turned in time to see the heavy ladders fall against the wall. Already, she knew, Uruk-hai would be swarming up them. Her face contorted, and she fired an arrow at the rope holding the ladder onto the wall. It frayed and then snapped, sending the creatures on it falling backwards into empty air.

"Swords!" Aragorn cried.

Tauriel glanced at Audriel, registering her mother's face for the first time in minutes. She, too, was grinning, and in that moment the two looked more alike than they ever had.

"It _is_ the beginning," Audriel said, her voice rising over the clash of weapons and screams of the dying. "It is the beginning of _their_ end."

* * *

 **Alright, people - brace yourselves! The next two chapters are non-stop action, and let me tell you, I hope I am able to live up to your expectations! I've been stressing over it for a while now, and have like twenty different versions of the chapters, LOL. I'll be updating ASAP, as always.**

 **And to those of you who celebrate it, happy 4th of July!**

 **Reviews are food for my starving writer's soul. :)**  
 **...was that too melodramatic?**


	29. The Choice

**Guys, I am SO sorry for the delay. My internet has been down, and I haven't had a chance to get this up online until just now. Thank you so, so much for your support. And I have a little announcement at the bottom, so make sure you read that. ;) On to the reviews!**

 **sweetmochi, Theekshana, larien numenense, NickeyToron and IhrtArwen, glad you enjoyed it!**  
 **Ronan, yes she does! It actually might seem a little bit inconsistent: she'll seem absolutely nuts for a while, her emotions going haywire, and then she'll go through several chapters with a perfectly normal attitude. You'll probably see a bit of that below.**  
 **guest and jana349, yeah, Audriel is an awesome fighter. I didn't include much "magic" in this chapter mainly because it's still unclear exactly how much elves can use, so I'm going to hold back a bit on that. :)**  
 **Guest - bahahaaha! Oh my goodness, I love that. I totally need to do a parody of that scene now, just for laughs. :p**

 **And here we go. I seriously stressed myself out about sharing this chapter with you guys. I know that some of you have high expectations, and I sincerely hope I'm able to live up to them.**

 **Hopefully, you'll enjoy!**

* * *

Audriel spun lithely, the sword in her hand a blinding flash of silver amidst the gloom that surrounded them all.

She fought effortlessly, without conscious thought or action. The blade was an extension of her body, a piece of her that she was incapable of letting go.

She fell to one knee, ducking the awkward thrust of a Uruk-hai. Their stench clung to her clothing, invaded her senses. Her lips curled back into a snarl of pure, undiluted hatred and disgust.

Her blade flashed out, and the Uruk-hai fell twitching to the ground.

Audriel glanced back, a brief stab of concern for Tauriel hitting her quite unexpectedly, and it was unwelcome.

Her movements did not stall, but the world around her became merely an unpleasant distraction.

Audriel was, admittedly, confused as to where she stood. What she had heard from others about her daughter had led her to expect something entirely different. Even the Tauriel - then Seena - she had met and sparred with in the Golden Wood was startlingly unlike what she saw in her daughter now.

Tauriel was Audriel's blood-daughter, but she had looked at her mother with a blank, uncaring gaze and then later on with a mere spark of the fire Audriel had expected to see.

The flame had gone out.

Muted, somehow. Smothered underneath someone else's hand.

Audriel pulled herself from her thoughts, separating a Uruk-hai from its head with a clean, steady stroke. Her sleeves were drenched in black blood, the thick liquid reeking of rotting flesh.

She almost collided with Thranduil's son, and scowled at him, feeling disgust bubble up in her chest.

Irrationally - or perhaps entirely rationally, depending on how you looked at it - she hated him. She had taken in the looks that passed between Tauriel and the Greenleaf prince, and she had hated him. She had met his eyes and his bland diffidence towards her and hated him. And she had taken a certain pleasure in jabbing at him with needle-sharp words, enjoying immensely the sight of him blanching as she carelessly threw her plans to the winds and spoke freely.

Audriel smirked at the memory, dispatching three more Uruks.

The dwarf she had noticed previously shouted something. It took her a moment to process the words.

"Legolas! Two already!"

The princeling turned. "I'm on seventeen!"

"I'll have no pointy-ear outscoring me!" the dwarf roared.

Audriel took a heartbeat to gape in disbelief at them. Their jesting attitude to the fight surrounding them nearly made her ill. She had spilled enough blood to know that one should never, ever see a battle as a game.

To see yourself as a pawn, ready to be moved by a player, was too dangerous. To keep yourself alive, you had to plan your own moves, make your own calculations.

For the dance of Death was fast-paced, never ending, and if you missed a crucial step you would find yourself wrapped in shadowy arms and the world would go dark around you and life would fade into memory and then nothingness.

* * *

Tauriel ducked and whirled, moving as one with Eowyn as the Uruk-hai swarmed around them. The small group of women still stood strong, cutting down enemies beyond count. They had slowly started to group together, pairing off in groups of two or three, standing back-to-back, trusting each other with their life.

"Eowyn!" Tauriel called, breaking the silence between them.

The girl turned to face her, and though her face was pale and splattered with blood, she stood without a trace of fear. "Aye?"

"We have to get to the others," she shouted over the noise, ducking a ugly black blade and sending a knife sailing into the Uruk's eye socket. "We have to find them!"

Eowyn nodded, accepting Tauriel's words without a second thought, and turned to shout an order. Tauriel began to carve a path through the hoard of filth before them, channeling all her anger and regret and pain into the twin blades in her hands.

Teeth bared, she screamed a battle cry of defiance in a Uruk-hai's face and slammed her blade up into its chest cavity, bypassing the armor and sliding the dagger straight up into the beast's heart. It stuck, hilt-deep, and she felt sticky fluids spilling over her fingers. She twisted the blade, hard, and stared the creature in the eyes, watching as the light slowly dimmed from the bright yellow orbs.

As the monster slumped over, she shoved it off her blade and turned in time to catch another as it arced down towards her back. As she moved to kill the Uruk-hai, a blade erupted through its chest, the point beaded with blood. The beast slid off the sword, falling to the ground and revealing Eowyn standing behind it, flanked by the other women. Tauriel's eyes flicked over the group, and came up three short.

She hardened her heart and turned away.

"Legolas!" she cried over the noise. "Gimli! Aragorn!"

"Tauriel!"

She sagged slightly in relief. Legolas slashed his way towards them, and for a moment she forgot the keen knife of betrayal he had slid between her ribs and met his eyes in open, honest relief.

The lightning flashed above them, illuminating the blood-slicked stone beneath their feet and sending her crashing back into reality. There was a shout of near-panic from Aragorn somewhere out in the gloom, and Tauriel flinched. She could not remember a time she had ever heard him sound truly scared.

Tauriel glanced at Eowyn, who nodded once, and then spun and raced towards Aragorn's side.

Almost immediately, she saw what had him so worried.

Uruks were strapping something onto one of their own, cheering, slamming the butts of their spears into the earth.

Chills raced down Tauriel's spine. Whatever this was, it was not good.

The Uruk-hai lit a torch and passed it to the chosen one amongst them.

 _"Togo hon dad, Legolas!_ " Aragorn shouted.

Legolas fired off an arrow, and within a heartbeat Tauriel had followed suit.

The Uruk-hai stumbled and nearly fell, but kept lunging onward.

 _"Dago hon! Dago hon!"_ Aragorn's words were almost pleading now, though she still did not entirely comprehend why.

In the process of nocking another arrow, she stopped. The world blurred. Slowly, she removed the arrow and turned to a torch, dipping the arrowhead into the globlets of fat and then setting it on fire.

She turned, pulling the bow almost to a full draw. Flames singed her fingertips, but she did not feel the pain.

Beside her, Legolas sent another arrow flying.

Carefully, Tauriel aimed, compensating for both the beast's momentum and the extra weight on the arrow. She did not aim for the Uruk-hai's flesh, but for whatever was strapped on its chest. Something - something - warned her that the cloth sack was what she needed to destroy, and that only fire would do the job.

The arrow hissed away into the night, a streak of flame against the darkness.

There was a moment of utter stillness around her and she closed her eyes, knowing that the shot was good but still fearing the result.

Even through her closed lids, she saw the massive explosion of light.

Just feet away from its goal, the explosives strapped to the Uruk-hai's chest caught spark and then fire and blew upwards in an explosion of white flame. The wall crumbled slightly, but Tauriel knew that the damage was far less than it would have been had the creature accomplished its goal.

Uruk-hai were rushing forward, pulling at the stones, clearing the way for their entrance beyond the wall.

Tauriel stood frozen in disbelief, though she knew she had to move, to fight, to do something, barely feeling Aragorn's quick, hard hug of shaky relief, nor Gimli's roar of pride and Legolas's quiet, simple words of praise.

Slowly, slowly, she turned and met her mother's eyes. She did not know how she had sensed Audriel's presence, nor how the elf was even there. Green sparked against green, clashing fiercely. Tauriel still was not entirely sure how she should act around Audriel, nor what she should say or do. She wanted to love her mother, but found that she could not quite force herself to do it.

Abruptly, Audriel nodded.

As one, they turned away from each other, and Tauriel stumbled her way towards Eowyn and back into the fight, ignoring the gore soaking its way towards her skin and the way the cut of her left hip stung every time she took a step.

There would be time enough for that later, she told herself.

* * *

 _But for those who still stand against the pull of Shadow, all would be lost._

Lady Galadriel's fingers trailed across the smoothness of hard, cold stone, letting her mind wander. Her consciousness reached out and brushed against others', and then something jolted hard against her thoughts and forced its way inwards.

 _My Lady Galadriel._

 _Arwen. What is wrong?_ She was surprised that the girl had found the strength to contact her from so far away, and briefly wondered if Arwen had defied her father's wishes to have his daughter sail.

The elleth struggled to convey her message using words, then gave up and shoved a group of blazingly bright images through their mental link.

There was a moment of miserable silence.

 _I'm sorry_ , Arwen whispered.

The Lady of the Golden Wood bowed her head. _There was always a risk. Always a chance. We both knew that. And even now, what you saw may not come to pass. There is always a piece of the puzzle that is lost. The future is a tangled web and is often difficult to unravel. I thank you for your warning._

In her mind's eye, the Lady of Lorien saw Arwen dip her own head. There was a look of immeasurable sadness in the elleth's eyes, though her face was serene. _May the sun and stars watch over you._

 _And may the sea guide you safely home._

The elleth's presence vanished as quickly as it had come.

* * *

 _Her dream-world had shattered._

 _Every piece, so carefully constructed, had fallen to her feet and shattered into a million pieces._

 _If she was capable of feeling anything, she would have wept._

 _But her heart had broken long ago, torn itself in two, and she could not remember the last time she had loved or laughed or even truly lived._

 _"I am lost," she said aloud, speaking into the empty whiteness that stretched on and on and on before her eyes. "The path has been lost to me for so long I fear I will never find it again."_

 _There was a ripple of laughter from the nothingness. She turned her head towards it in disbelief._

 _A woman stepped out of the whiteness, her body draped in shifting earthy colors and the long locks of her hair like tongues of fire. Vines were woven into her braids; her eyes were the color of evergreens._

 _"Ah, my child," the woman said gently. "You are not lost quite yet." She raised a hand, and flowers bloomed upon her palm. "Why do you chase after that which is not meant for you?" Gently, she plucked the rose from its stem and held it out. "Just because the blood of Men flows in your veins does not mean you fullfill all their capacity for evil."_

 _"You do not understand," she said brokenly. She traced a line along the veins on her wrist. "My blood - it has turned black. The Shadow has already taken me and now there is no going back."_

 _The woman crouched at her side and took her by the hand. "There is always another way to turn, child."_

 _She met the woman's eyes, green against green, and then looked away. "Why do you give me false promises?" she asked softly. "I am tired of all the lies."_

 _"Look at me."_

 _She refused, her eyes cast downward._

 _"Look at me, my daughter." The woman reached out one slim hand and lifted her chin upwards. "Look in my eyes and see what you are."_

 _Unwillingly, she did. There was silence, and then she gasped in a breath of air as if it was her very first._

 _"Then it is not my fault," she whispered. Tears stung the corners of her vision. "None of this - none of it is my fault."_

 _The woman smiled gently. "What they did to you when you were but a babe - no, none of that was your fault. But now you must choose your path, and should it be the right one, the world will remember your name for many a century."_

 _She dropped a hand to her stomach. "I will have a daughter," she said softly._

 _"Aye. But it will not be her who mends that which will be broken." The woman's eyes were distant as she looked out into the nothingness. "No, not her. Not even your daughter's daughter."_

 _She reached out a hand. "But my daughter. Tell me that she will always have someone there for her, that she will never feel alone as I have felt."_

 _The woman smiled, but there was a terrible sadness to it. "It is time to wake up now," she said. "You must wake up, child." Her voice was fading away, scattered to the winds. "Wake up, and remember . . ."_

* * *

"The Ents cannot hold back this storm," Treebeard croaked. "We must weather such things as we have always done."

Merry gaped in wordless disbelief for several long moments, sputtering, then finally managed to say, "How can that be your decision?!"

The old tree dipped his head somewhat. "This is not our war."

"But you're part of this world!" Merry cried. " _Aren't_ you?! You must help. Please. You must do something."

He sighed, the sound a great rasping of branches in the wind. "You are young and brave, Master Merry. But your part in this tale is over now. Go back to your home."

Pippin tugged on Merry's sleave. "Maybe Treebeard's right. We don't belong here, Merry. It's too big for us. What can we do in the end? We've got the Shire. Maybe we should go home."

Merry turned to look at Pippin. "The fires of Isengard will spread and the woods of Tuckborough and Buckland will burn. And . . . and all that was once green and good in this world will be gone. There won't _be_ a Shire, Pippin."

* * *

Audriel fought mechanically, struggling to ignore the slow, steady drain of her strength. Gore had soaked its way through the leather of her boots and underneath her breastplate, and she could almost feel it burning her flesh.

She spat a mouthful of bile at the ground beneath her and ducked a blow, forcing her tired arms to lift the sword and force it through a layer of armor and into the Uruk's heart.

 _Block._

 _Spin._

She nearly lost her balance, righting herself carefully and lifting her blades once more.

 _Duck._

 _Block._

 _Block._

She was breathing heavily, the armor she wore suddenly seeming impossibly heavy as it hung upon her body.

 _I cannot continue like this_ , she realized, and parried another blow before dropping to one knee, shielding herself from the battle as she strained for the ball of light nestled deep inside her.

It slipped from her grasp and seemed to turn tail and run, burrowing further down.

Sweat poured from her brow as she reached and - and - _there_.

Audriel pulled, hard, and as it finally came free she lifted her head and screamed.

She rose after another hearbeat, feeling her tiredness drain away, replaced by a burning energy that, if she did not use it, would consume her.

 _Parry._

 _Duck, block, spin._

 _Stab, slash, parry._

She was moving like the licking tongues of flame that she could almost see around her body, and the power was glorious.

A shout hit her ears abruptly, and she paused, chest heaving.

 _"Nan barad! Nan barad!"_

The Ranger, she wondered, or Thranduil's son?

The cry came again.

 _"Nan barad! Haldir! Nan barad!"_

Audriel whipped around at the name, her attention now focused solely on the marchwarden as he fought. She looked at him and carefully ignored the small ache in her chest that was warning her.

"Nan barad!" Haldir roared, and all around him elves were falling back, going to the Keep as they had been commanded.

Audriel gutted an Uruk-hai with barely a glance in its direction, still staring at the marchwarden.

Time slowed as he finally - finally - glanced upwards and met her eyes.

" _Audriel_!" he shouted. "Fall back to the Keep!" She did not move, did not think, barely breathed.

He never saw the blade coming.

It fell, heavy and blunted, on his back, and still she stood there, but now there was a vague smile on her lips and the steady pulse of power in her veins.

He fell to his knees, and she could see blood spilling down his neck. The Uruk-hai behind him raised its blade - dripping with elven blood - and roared triumphantly into the darkness.

Audriel stepped forward, sudden rage washing over her, and in one smooth motion she stabbed the Uruk-hai through the heart and pushed it off her blade.

"Audriel," Haldir whispered. Blood was starting to stain his lips, salty as it mixed with his sweat.

She stepped back, regarding him with something very alike to indifference. The wound on his back was not quite mortal, and he would either bleed out or be cut down by another. "I am sorry," she said softly, and it was not a lie. For all his faults and annoyances, the marchwarden was a strong, proud fighter, and she would not wish this death on any of her kin.

"Audriel," he said again.

She dropped to one knee at his side. "Aye?"

His face was calm, void of the pain she knew he must be feeling, but his eyes - his eyes were old and sad and so very, very tired. "End it. I would not remain here like this."

She looked at him, a frown furrowing her brow. There was a deep, throbbing pain somewhere within her rib cage, a sense of understanding. She drew her blade, leveling it before his chest, pointing it at the gap in his once-fine armor. For the first time, she had a kind of respect for the marchwarden, and so she said nothing.

" _Audriel_."

She stilled her hand and met his eyes once more.

"Your daughter. Love her, love her with everything you are. You will never know what you have until you no longer have her. She is strong, strong enough to tear down the walls around her, but she is also so very weak and broken inside. You made your choice all those years ago, but you can make another now." He coughed, blood dribbling down his chin. "And - tell her that her father loved her. Tell her that - for me."

Audriel's face contorted, and though her arms were suddenly heavy, she slid the blade carefully, almost gently, into his chest, piercing his heart.

He smiled then, the light dimming from his eyes even as she stared at him. His lips formed words, and she bent close to hear them.

"Thank you," he whispered.

He slumped to the ground, leaving Audriel kneeling by his motionless form, shaking, utterly drained.

She stared down at her hands, one of which still gripped the sword. They were stained with elven blood, and as she watched it dripped, scarlet-red, off the tip of her sword.

"He loved her," she said to the darkness, and her words carried mere echoes of pain. "But he never loved me."

* * *

 **Okay, first off: I feel that this wasn't my best chapter. I rewrote it several times, but it never clicked for me. I apologize.**  
 **Two: I absolutely hated writing the scene in which Haldir dies. :'( *sniffs***  
 **Three: You people are FREAKING AMAZING. Seriously.**  
 **Four: When this fic hits 250 reviews, I'll be posting a one-shot based off of SBI, SIB, and TBE. Here's a snippet for y'all lovely readers:**

 _They awoke in darkness, father and son, and found themselves in another world, another time._

 _Around them, life dragged itself onwards. They would dream again, and inevitably in their dream-worlds they would find themselves faced with blood-red hair and leaf-green eyes. And if the dream chanced to turn into a nightmare, they would see a lightning-quick smile full of deadly promise, and a silver blade would flash upwards, and the world would go dark._

 **Aaand five: I have finally stared editing So Be It! None of the chapters have been re-published yet, but they should be soon.**

 **I will update as soon as possible!**


	30. Reckless

**I have an update for y'all (yesh)! And holy cow - talk about amazing readers!**

 **unicorn682006, Theekshana, marshmellow, annie, Guest, and hopelesselfadict (ha! I got you to log in!), glad you enjoyed it!**

 **And to answer everyone's main question: Haldir is not her father. ;) If you were hoping he was, I'm sorry to disappoint, but that particular plot-twist just would never work. I actually considered it, waaaaay back when I was still writing SBI, but it's just so OOC and AU that I dropped it fairly quickly. If he had been her father, I would have worded the ending of the last chapter differently.**

 **I'm hoping I didn't rush this chapter out for y'all, and that it holds to the standards of the previous one. Not quite as much action here, but some building up for what will come in the next chapter.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Well - hopefully. ;)**

* * *

Lady Galadriel gasped and flinched abruptly, falling to the ground, her palms pressing against the moist soil.

She saw the battle as if were before her; she saw the slice of the ugly Uruk blades and the blood as it soaked into the earth; and every time a life she was tied to failed, she felt the stab up underneath her chest and tasted their blood as if it was her own.

She drew her fingers towards her palm, feeling the loam give way. She could smell smoke and hear the haunting music of those who lamented the loss of the ones they loved, and all around her she could see the end draw near.

For it was coming, and fast. The Lady of Lorien waited in the aching silence, and as a blade fell she jolted and cried out. The pain was her burden to bear, her choice, and even as she doubled over with tears stinging her eyes she was glad.

She lifted her head, her heart flooding with affection and a great longing to see someone again. " _Thank you,_ " she whispered, and the words did not fall from her lips alone. The images faded, and she fell back, weeping, her tears born of regret and loss and even anger, one hand still clenched around the warm soil in her palm.

And as the battle raged on, she reached out and searched for the missing pieces. Strained to see what they must do to fight back the clinging Shadow, for she feared the hope they all clung to was merely a delusion.

All around her, the Golden Wood wept.

* * *

Tauriel bent, straining to lift the woman she currently was supporting to her feet. "Come," she rasped. "Come with me."

Weakly, the woman touched her cheek with work-roughened fingers. "No, my lady. I can't, now."

Numbly, she murmured, "I'm not a lady." She lifted the woman again, trying to shift her over one shoulder and then staggering under the weight.

"Leave me," the woman gasped. Her breath was hitching as she inhaled past the blood rattling in her throat, her skin gray.

Tauriel looked at her for a long moment, torn, and then let her weight fall away, laying her gently on the ground. She looked closer at the woman's face and felt a flash of recognition. "What is your name?" she whispered, abruptly placing her as the proud, strong grandmother she had spoken to just hours previously, though it seemed like a lifetime.

"Birdget," she rasped, and began to force more words out. "My name is Birdget. My - grandson - please care for him."

Tauriel nodded woodenly and reached for the old woman's hand. "You are truly pure of heart," she whispered, watching the red stain on Birdget's stomach spread. "I will do everything in my power to find him."

Birdget's fingers contracted tightly. "He has - no one now." She pulled in another lungful of air. "I am - afraid."

Tauriel brushed angrily at a tear as it slid down her cheek. " _Shh_ ," she said softly, and managed to use the little healing power she had left to draw away most of the pain. Tremors were wracking Birdget's fragile age-worn frame, and she could have wept.

Birdget's eyes abruptly unfocused, staring off into the distance, then shifted to Tauriel's face. "It does not hurt," she said sweetly, her smile angelic. Tauriel was frozen, staring down at her as the stains of time seemed to fade away, replaced by peaceful beauty. "No, it does not hurt now." Slowly, she raised a hand and touched Tauriel's cheek, the feather-light touch stinging slightly. "I was afraid it would, you know. It doesn't hurt," she repeated softly, and then her hand fell to her side, and Tauriel saw the light go out from behind her eyes.

There was stillness, then, and slowly the world around her came back into focus.

It was quiet. Too quiet. Tauriel rose, everything aching as if it were badly bruised. Her cheeks were wet, though her tears no longer fell. She reached down for one of her throwing knives, wanting - needing - to destroy something so she could mask her pain, but paused.

The blades were all gone, save one in her left boot.

She looked back and saw the trail of Uruk-hai bodies behind her, most with a blade protruding from some part of their body.

As she watched, one moved.

Twitched, more accurately, and just barely.

But it was enough.

She drew her daggers, holding the hilts so the blades angled back underneath her arms. She walked towards the Uruk, regarding the pool of darkly-tinted blood spreading from the beast's body with satisfaction.

The daggers flipped up and out of her hands in one smooth motion. She dimly thought that this was foolish, and she could end up paying dearly for it. But she needed to feel something other than that throbbing pain that seemed to be a part of her, and this was the only way she knew. Of all the skills she had ever learned, dealing out death was the only one that had stayed with her every step of the way.

She bent, gazing down into yellow eyes that, even now, were filled with malice.

"I truly wish I had more time," she said softly, "for if I did I would do my best to make you pay for everything your kind has done. For now, I will have to make do with watching you choke on your own blood and spend your last moments knowing that we will always, _always_ win. Shadow cannot stand before Light and survive, and your masters would do well to remember that." She exhaled harshly in dark anticipation, and slammed her twin blades into the Uruk's eye sockets, hearing the sickeningly wet sound and then the crunch of bone.

It filled her with gladness for a long moment, and then she recoiled.

She was retracing her steps, back down the path of darkness.

She was falling again.

 _No_ , she thought. _I will not -cannot - do this to myself. Not again._

Slowly, she drew the daggers out. They had been pushed hilt-deep into the Uruk-hai's skull, and dripped with thick fluids. She almost gagged, quickly wiping them clean and then sheathing them.

Hands trembling dangerously, she rose.

She had to find something to do, needed to fight. She would go mad if she did not.

As she fairly ran in search of Aragorn, she stepped in a pool of blood and nearly fell.

Regaining her balance, she looked down at her booted feet and saw that the blood was red. She sucked in a breath, and slowly forced herself to look for the source.

Blood-marred silvery hair caught her eye, and she felt as if she had been kicked in the chest.

 _One of my kin._

Slowly - so very, very slowly - she reached out and carefully turned the elf's face towards her.

She wished she had not.

Haldir's sightless eyes stared back at her, already beginning to cloud over as death took him more fully into its grip. She jerked back, one of her hands clasping the opposite leather-sheathed wrist and pressing hard on the scars that had started to pulse in time with her heartbeat.

She was shaking. Her body was shaking so hard that she could have sworn she could not see straight, and her stomach was clenching violently. If there had been anything in it, she would have spilled it all up and onto the ground.

The marchwarden was dead.

 _Dead_.

It did not seem real.

But then again, so much of this had not. As she had so many times before, Tauriel wondered if this was all but a nightmare, and prayed she would wake up before she found herself faced with the death of all those she had been close to.

She had not been close to Haldir. Not really. She had sparred with him several times back in the Golden Wood - it seemed a million years ago now - and he had remained stern-faced, ignoring her most of the time. But there had been one time, just once, that she had met his eyes and he had looked at her with what seemed like regret. She had stared back at him, and then grief washed over his features and he turned away.

She had never seen him smile, but for that one time when Aragorn had greeted him.

Her gaze fell to his face once more, and again she felt the stabbing sensation in her chest.

His lips were curved into a gentle smile.

In death, he had found peace, and suddenly she envied him. She wanted what he now seemed to have, to find the piece of her that would snap into place within her heart and guide her along.

She wanted to be able to sleep without night terrors ripping through her slumber and causing her to jolt awake in the middle of the night with a cold sweat upon her brow and a scream caught in her throat.

She wanted to be able to speak _his_ -Kili's - name without feeling that she had broken a promise and failed to save one of the few she had ever felt could have understood her, the dwarf who had spoken with her of blood-moons and the stars above them.

She wanted to forget about Legolas's lies and betrayal and let herself love him.

She wanted to open her heart up to her mother - her mother, who had abandoned her when she was so young and only now had come back to claim her; her mother, who had looked at her daughter all those years ago and found that she did not want her, and so tossed her aside and into the arms of another. Her mother, with that strange glint in her eyes and a smile curving her lips.

She wanted to be able to face the Elvenking once more, and meet his gaze with honest apology.

But above all, she longed to be able to let go of all the pain and _live_.

* * *

Aragorn swept a hand across his brow, wiping away sweat and blood. The sounds of battle around him had slowly started to fade, replaced by a dull, weary ringing in his ears.

They were losing.

He knew it, saw it, felt it even, but feared that saying it out loud would make it, somehow, more of a reality.

"How long do you need?" he asked Theoden hoarsely.

"As long as you can give me," the king responded. His words fell flat.

There was a quick, sharp command from the corner, and the voice was feminine. Aragorn turned and for a moment though it was Tauriel. Shaking himself, he met the glittering green eyes of the elf he understood to be her mother. She was tearing a path straight towards him, and her gaze was deeply unsettling.

" _Ranger_ ," she growled, and he saw that there was a smear of blood across one high cheekbone.

"Aye?" He fought to keep his voice even. There was something wrong with this one, something unspeakable and yet somehow impossible to place.

"You had best have something up your sleeve," she spat, and he could not understand why she was so ill at ease. She waved a hand, indicating the men around them. "If you do not, they - _we_ \- will all die." Her words were brutally, painfully honest, and he came close to wincing.

"I cannot make a decision without the king's approval," he managed to say, and knew immediately that it had not been a good idea to voice those particular words.

She narrowed her eyes, stepping forward as if to shake him. " _Enough_ ," she snarled, "enough of this. The king stares off into the darkness with no hope in his heart, and we will die if the battle continues this way. _They_ will die - _all_ of them. Man, elf, woman and child, they will all die if you do not do _something_."

He met her gaze and felt it jolt him all the way down to his feet. As much as he wanted to ignore her words, he found he could not.

He glanced to the side, an idea forming in his mind. It was reckless, foolhardy, and would likely lead to his demise, but at the moment it was the best he had.

He sighed.

"Very well," he bit out. "I will do all I can." He made as if to turn away, but stopped. "You look like her," he said, and they both knew who he was speaking of.

She nodded, once, turning on her heel and seemingly vanishing.

He shook himself, and then swiveled, searching for a familiar face. "Gimli!"

* * *

She _ached_ for a fight.

Her body was humming with a strange strength that she could not understand, for both her mind and her heart were weary; her fingers tingled with what seemed to be anticipation, and the twin daggers she held seemed to be one with her skin.

The multitude of thin cuts across her body were nothing more than minor scratches. Even the cut on her hip, deeper than the others - to the bone almost, and still leaking blood down her leg - barely twinged as she loped easily, moving where the tug in her chest directed her.

She was being pulled by _something_

Some other sense was whispering directions in her ear, and more and more she found herself listening. When she found her balance shifting towards a certain direction, she moved that way, and within what seemed like mere moments she stood eye to eye with Aragorn, who at first looked startled and then wary, and then his face cleared and he welcomed her.

"Tauriel," he said, and for some reason it almost seemed to be a question. She merely nodded, arching a brow in silent question.

Gimli answered for him. "He has a plan," he said gruffly, then lowered his voice. "There may be a chance the lad's gone mad," he added conspiratorally.

Tauriel forced her face into what she hoped was a smile and finally found her voice, though it hurt to speak. "Well then," she rasped. "I suppose I will have to join you."

* * *

Thranduil bowed his head, fingers brushing along the edges of his crown.

And to fill the silence, he spoke.

He spoke of love and laughter and lies, all the things he had built his kingdom upon, and now it was crumbling beneath him.

The forest was finally truly dying. He could smell it in the rot of the air and the stench of dead and dying things all across the once-bright woodland. Trees fell all across the land, drawn back towards the earth, and he was powerless to stop it.

His people no longer saw the light save for a few rare occasions. That more than anything filled him with pain and perhaps even guilt, for in a way he felt as if this was his fault.

Audriel had warned him - oh yes, she had, so many times - but he had dismissed her words as nothing more than the raging, senseless hatred she so often displayed towards him.

She had promised that unless he tied the forest back to the one it loved, it would turn against him and then itself. She had ranted briefly about something - about "the great tree" - and then whipped around and sprinted for the door to his chambers.

He sighed and lifted his head, crown still in place, reaching for his wine.

It was perfectly aged, light upon his tongue, but he tasted nothing. It might as well have been a foul concoction designed to bleed him from the inside out.

He lifted it to his lips again, falling silent as his thoughts wandered.

 _Legolas_.

Was his son alright?

Or had war or perhaps even Audriel taken him from this land?

Sending Audriel after Legolas had done nothing but increase upon his worry. Audriel, if she so wished, would kill Legolas either way. Giving her his permission to go after his son at least diminished the satisfaction she would get from the whole affair, and would perhaps keep her temper at bay for at least a little while.

He wondered briefly if Tauriel had met her mother, or if she even knew Audriel was still alive.

A cold chuckle burst from him at the idea of the two facing off. Audriel would have found her match in her daughter, even if Tauriel had not changed as much as he thought.

Audriel would try to beat Tauriel down, to make her feel as if she knew nothing and that only Audriel could teach her.

And he could quite clearly picture Tauriel turning around and calmly meeting Audriel's gaze - _green, green, green_ \- and laughing.

The thought almost -almost - made his lips twitch towards a smile.

In the past moon, he had come to realize that if Tauriel was indeed the key to all he cared for - his son, as well as the piece the forest dearly needed - he would not stand between her and and Legolas; indeed, would perhaps even encourage them. The irony of the situation had ceased to be even mildly amusing.

Above all, he wanted his son to be happy and his people to return to the life they once had.

It was a gamble. He feared that Tauriel would eventually begin to become like her mother before her, and if she was tied to the woodland she could bring everything crashing down with but a flick of her wrist.

 _Reckless,_ he thought. _And there is so very much at stake. But it is a risk I feel I must take, for now it seems to be the only path open to my eyes._

He sighed and rose, slowly lifting his crown from his head and placing it upon the tabletop.

 _If I am wrong, if this all fails, what could have been the beginning of something strong and bright will be nothing more than the end for us all._

* * *

Tauriel stared incredulously at Aragorn, fairly gaping. "Gimli," she said weakly, "I believe you may have been right."

He had the audacity to look offended.

* * *

Something had changed.

Audriel halted, stilling her blade and nearly sniffed the air.

 _This is not right,_ she thought.

Somewhere, a thread had snapped, and now she could feel the framework beginning to unravel.

She reached out, grasping for her daughter's consciousness, and found nothing.

Emptiness.

But nothing more.

She gritted her teeth, sword flashing out without second thought as she concentrated fiercely.

And still she could not sense Tauriel. There was no glowing ember that would occasionally burst into flame, no quick flit of ill-concealed thoughts and the rare slamming up of Tauriel's mental shields, for though she knew her daughter thought her most private opinions and ideas well-protected, in truth they were quite easy to find and dissect.

She had been privy to Tauriel's most private thoughts, had watched from many a mile away as the Shadow slowly slid from her daughter's person, had seen it replaced by a small, fragile light that could have been blown out with but a quick breath.

She shook a sudden chill away, exhaling sharply, and then braced herself.

Wincing at the unfamiliarity, she looked for her daughter amongst the smears of darkness that were all around them.

And she found her.

Audriel doubled over at the sharpness, cold and as painful as a blade through her chest. Her daughter was almost gone.

But she was not yet all Shadow - not yet, she told herself, and clung to that small shred of hope; for there was still a piece, a tiny ball of fire that if fully ignited could rise up and burn away the darkness.

She knew that if Tauriel's heart ceased to pulse with hope and joy, all would be lost.

Audriel would not get what she wanted- needed - so desperately, and there would be no way to regain that which had been broken.

She screamed silently out into the night in sudden, blinding rage, for she had not gone this far to fail.

Her fingers contracted around the hilt of her sword.

A plan - she needed a plan. Another plot to spin like a spider wove its webs. She bit down on her tongue until it bled, her mouth filling with scarlet-salt, though she could not taste it.

And then it hit her.

It had worked before, she told herself. Mayhap it would work again.

It _had_ to work again.

She straightened to her full height, unimpressive though it was, and smiled.

It was the smile that so very many had seen just before a silver sword flashed out and cut them down; the smile that haunted ones' sleep.

The smile that, sometimes, Tauriel saw as she wandered through her dream-lands, though she had never recognized it before.

A smile of sharp teeth and full lips, deceptively beautiful until it was too late.

A grin of death.

* * *

 **Quick rant on my writing skills: I could not get this chapter to come together. I just couldn't, and I don't know why. It seems ... choppy somehow. I don't know how to explain it, but it just doesn't flow like it seems it should. I'm not sure if this is because I was adopting the less-descriptive, darker manner that most of the characters are showing at this point, or if it just downright sucks, but either way I hope my writer's block goes away fast, LOL.**

 **A reviewer said that they had a theory on the woman in the dream/vision last chapter. Anyone else want to share theirs? I can tell you this: it's an important piece of plot, and will play a big role in some of the later chapters.**  
 **Sigh. I sometimes want to take all the writing I have done for this fic, shove it into something resembling order, and share it with y'all. I think that half the time I'm more eager to post a new chapter than y'all are to read it! And we have such a looong ways to go, with so many awesome scenes! :D**

 **Ahem.**

 **Yeah. That might have been slightly cruel. I'll update ASAP!**


	31. Dae Agar

**Okay, first off, a huuuuuuge shoutout to DarthFissure95, who helped me with this chapter, Saruman's part in particular ('cause it was pretty awful before). Second, thank y'all so much for leaving your thoughts and comments. Seriously. You have no idea how much it means, even if you're criticizing me, because you still took the time to read my little fic and point out stuff. :)**

 **I don't have time to respond to reviews (I have no good excuse - I'm off to see Suicide Squad), but will definitely get around to it next chapter. I'm hoping that this chapter is an improvement over the last.**

 **Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

"You cannot be serious," Tauriel said bluntly. "This is madness."

Aragorn favored her with one of his odd half-smiles, dark eyes steady. "We have nothing to lose," he pointed out.

Gimli coughed. "Our lives, lad," he said. "Nothing but our lives."

He waved a dismissive hand. "We will all die if something does not change. I, for one, would prefer not to meet my end cowering behind stone walls."

Tauriel shifted uncomfortably. Her very bones seemed to be trembling with that strange, deadly magic that had wrapped itself around her like a veil. She felt invincible, in the flesh at least, though she knew well that she was still entirely vulnerable to injury and death. At the same time, though, she felt emptier and weaker than ever, as if she could snap if she brushed up against something too hard.

"Very well," she finally said. "I will go with you." Her twin blades jumped from their scabbards, twirling easily in her hands.

Gimli growled something unintelligible and brandished his ax, eyes bright underneath his helmet. "What are we waiting for, then?" he demanded. "Let's spill some Uruk blood!"

She glanced downwards at him and shook her head slightly in amusement, though she was not entirely sure why.

Aragorn looked at her with sharp eyes for a long moment, as if he expected her to say something, but remained silent. "Come," he murmured, turning away.

They trailed after him, Tauriel carefully picking her way across the smears of blood, fighting back images of Haldir's eyes staring out into space.

Aragorn stopped, peering down at the thin, slippery-looking ledge. "This is it," he said under his breath, and slid through the gap in the stone, landing lightly on his feet, knees bent.

The ledge looked to be only a foot or two in width, and was slick with water. Tauriel stared warily down at him, eyes glinting green. She stepped to the side, allowing Gimli to go first.

The dwarf grunted as he launched himself out into space, slamming into the stone with enough force to make Tauriel wince. Carefully, she followed suit, landing in a half-crouch that absorbed most of the impact.

"And now?" she hissed.

Aragorn fairly grinned at her, and the sight sent a jolt of something straight to her heart. "Did you bring a bow?"

She narrowed her eyes, not entirely sure if she should say yes, and unslung it from her shoulder. Quickly, she strung it, nocking an arrow. "What do you wish me to do?"

Aragorn gestured slightly behind him, and she carefully slid past him, peering out into the dusk for a long moment before drawing back.

The Uruk-hai were ramming into the gate, shields mostly protecting them from the arrows hissing down from above. Aragorn's plan was quickly starting to become clear.

Taking a step back, she drew the string back, aiming meticulously, and then firing.

A Uruk tumbled from the causeway, screaming low in its throat as it fell, somehow managing to take one of its kin with it.

Tauriel felt the corners of her lips turn upwards ever so slightly.

"Come on," Gimli growled. "We can take them."

Aragorn pursed his lips, measuring the distance. "It's a long way."

Gimli looked at the bridge and then at the ground beneath his feet, clearly struggling with himself. Tauriel waited, an eyebrow arched, for him to speak.

"Toss me," the dwarf finally bit out.

Aragorn swung around. "What?" he said, but Tauriel heard the edge of laughter in his voice. She tugged at a rogue strand of hair, pulling it away from her quiver as she waited for them to get back to the matter at hand.

"I cannot jump the distance!" Gimli snarled. "You'll have to toss me!"

Aragorn nodded once, sobering, and wrapped his arms around the dwarf. Gimli started to sputter something, and he stopped.

Gimli reached out to grab at Tauriel's arm. "Don't tell the elf."

Tauriel fumed as she saw Aragorn almost choke on a laugh - she supposed that it was better for him to be in good spirits than bad - and nodded without a second thought. "Not a word." She knew full-well of whom he spoke.

Gimli looked mollified, and allowed Aragorn to heave him upwards. With a grunt, he threw the dwarf across the gap, and Tauriel watched with some surprise as the dwarf landed neatly, his ax already starting to carve a path through the Uruks.

Aragorn took a single step backwards and launched himself out into the half-light, sword already drawn.

She took a deep breath and started to do the same, but stopped.

Before, if she had been faced with her own end, she would not have cared. There had been nothing to go back to, no one that would mourn her end.

Now, though, it was different. She wanted to see the woodland one more time, and she wanted to know her mother and perhaps even make peace with Legolas, if she could find it within her own heart. She felt empty inside, but knew that she had to fill the emptiness or she would truly lose herself. Her fingers twitched, but she forced herself to steel her mind and push at the darkness within it.

 _I will not die,_ she thought. _Not now._

She jumped onto the causeway with blades drawn and a smile pasted upon her lips.

* * *

Legolas sent another arrow flying, not bothering to see if it hit its mark. He knew, with the knowledge of an expert marksman, that his aim was true. Ducking the swipe of a blade, he sent another arrow flying towards the ropes that were holding the ladders Uruk-hais were currently attempting to swarm up. The arrow-head severed the rope, sending the ladder crashing down to the earth.

"Hold fast the gate!" someone shouted, their voice cracking ever so slightly.

"Gimli! Aragorn!" the king shouted, and Legolas's head snapped up. If Aragorn and Gimli were still out there, Tauriel likely was as well. "Get out of there!" Theoden roared, and Legolas was already moving towards a pile of thick roping coiled several feet away.

He grabbed it, rushing towards the causeway, and looked downwards as he quickly started unfurling and knotting the rope.

She was there, as he had known she would be. Her hair was a startling splash amongst the darker colors; a beacon in the shadow. She was a whirlwind of motion, but something seemed wrong.

He tossed the rope down, anchoring it firmly, and then it hit him.

Her face bore the same broken, shadowy expression her glamoured features had so ofen worn when she had hidden her identity from them, and a flash of red-hot fear hit him.

" _Tauriel_!" he shouted. " _Aragorn_!" He threw the rope in their direction, watching as they turned to look at him. Aragorn shouted something to Tauriel, but she shook her head vehemently and gestured for them to go.

Aragorn grabbed Gimli, ignoring the dwarf's growls, and started to climb the rope, grabbing onto the knots as he went, feet braced against the wall.

Tauriel stabbed a Uruk through the heart and ducked another blow, but was not fast enough.

The beast's back-stroke caught her on the arm, slicing deep and coming away dark-stained. She jerked, but did not cry out, and started to back towards the rope, blades still flashing in the gloom. Her face was contorted, though he could not be sure if it was due to pain. He shouted at her again, and within another half-dozen tense moments, she was hauling herself up the rope with one arm.

But as she was just about to clear the wall, her grip started faltering, and her saw her muscles strain as she tried to keep herself on-target. He lunged forward, his one thought that she could not fall.

Straining, for she was far from light, he pulled her upwards until her torso was scraping against the stone. She heaved herself half-way upright and promptly fell, her dead-weight fairly flattening him to the ground.

He opened his eyes, the breath knocked out of him, and squinted upwards into her face. She was pale and smelt of blood, and for a moment he felt her body pressed up against his own, warm and leanly muscled.

It lasted for but a hearbeat before she shoved herself off of him as fast as she possibly could.

He righted himself, drawing in a breath as best he could. "Your arm," he rasped.

Her eyes sparked, and she glanced down at the blood flowing from the wound with a deep frown.

"I will live," she said flatly. She tore a strip from her tunic, winding it around the wound tightly. It was red-soaked within moments, but she did not seem to notice.

They both stood, and the world around him came rushing back into focus. He shook himself harshly and fine-tuned his senses to the ongoing battle beyond.

"Pull everybody back," he heard the king say, and there was a deep pain in his voice. "Pull them back."

 _"Fall back!"_

A sudden splintering of wood, loud and brutal. They both winced.

"They have broken through!" someone cried.

"The castle is breached. _Retreat_!"

 _"Fall back! Fall back!"_

 _"Retreat!"_

And then Aragorn's voice, harsh with desperation and worry. "Hurry! Inside. Get them inside."

"Into the Keep!" Theoden repeated, and their voices - accompanied by the rush of feet - were starting to fade. Legolas looked at Tauriel, his pulse accelerating somewhat as the air around them grew heavier.

She met his gaze with flinty eyes, jaw tensed. "We must join them."

He nodded, turning on his heel and loping quickly away. If they did not hurry, they would be barred from the Keep and end up stuck outside, battling alone against the Uruks.

Tauriel followed, and after a moment he noticed that her steps were slightly uneven. He glanced back at her and saw that she was limping, one hip soaked with blood.

Legolas tensed all over, but forced himself not to focus upon her injuries. She had made it very clear that she cared not what he said or thought, and pushing his worries on her would do nothing but awaken that cursed stubbornness of hers, and she would end up fighting until she fainted from loss of blood.

"They have lost hope."

Her speaking was so utterly unanticipated that he fairly jumped, but did not turn. "Aye."

"It is not the end, though."

Her words were almost dreamy, and he gave in and turned to face her, though he did not halt.

Her eyes were glazed over, unfocused, her face disturbingly calm. Legolas nearly reached out to shake her, unnerved as he was. He had a sudden flashback to when she had brushed against the trees of Fangorn, and had been frozen, head thrown back as her skin went hot and memories flooded her consciousness.

Tauriel shook herself, the look clearing. There was a new warmth to her features, and he wondered what she had seen.

"Come," she said. "We have to hurry. I must speak to Aragorn."

* * *

Esnilleth folded his hands neatly behind his back, eyes glinting. "The battle is failing, my lord."

"What do you mean?" Saruman asked, turning, his staff hitting the slick stone floor.

"It matters not," Esnilleth said indifferently, watching with smirking satisfaction as the wizard's face tightened ever so slightly.

"Tell me," Saruman said softly, his words deceptively smooth.

He glared, the tips of his ears turning red. "Careful, friend. You walk a dangerous line. Take care, for if you stumble, you will fall."

Saruman waved a hand around them. "I do not fear heights, elf."

He sighed."It goes well for us, so far. We are crushing them beneath our feet. But help rises up, looming on the horizon." Esnilleth threw up his hands dramatically. "If the hammer falls upon us, all is lost."

" 'Look to my coming at first light on the fifth day, and at dawn, look to the east'." Saruman turned dismissively, relaxing somewhat. "There is nothing to fear, then. Gandalf does not have the means to marshal a force large enough to stand against us."

Esnilleth coughed, sounding disgustingly satisfied. " _They_ are there."

Saruman slowly swung back around. "What?"

" _Both_ of them," he added cheerfully.

"That cannot be," the wizard said flatly.

Wormtongue limped forwards. "My lord? What ails you?"

" _Esnilleth_ ," Saruman hissed

The elf leaned forward, eyes glittering maliciously. "You should have known that she would not let your treachery go unpunished. They know," he said, "and they are coming."

* * *

 _Audriel looked down at her daughter, tears streaming down her face, mingling with sweat and blood. With trembling hands, she wiped birthing fluids from her daughter's face and wept._

 _"Sister," she whispered, and from very far away there was an answering sigh._

Audriel _._

 _She smiled shakily, drawing her daughter close to her heart. "Look at her. She is beautiful. So very beautiful."_

Amin soul quanta yassen alasse' ten' lle, amin vanima seler'. What is her name?

 _"Seena," Audriel said shakily, and she was laughing and weeping all at once, ignoring the ache in her body, for it had all been worth it, so many times over. "I will call her Seena."_

 _There was a warm glow and a gentle push, and Aruelle looked upon what her sister saw: a tiny elven child, still streaked with amber fluids and dotted with blood, but with hair as red as the leaves upon the trees in autumn and green gems for eyes. Aruelle reached out, laying a gentle, non-existent hand upon her sister's child - blood of her blood, flesh of her flesh, the girl she would never be able to have herself._

Hello, little one.

 _The girl blinked - once, twice, three times._

 _Audriel stiffened abruptly, and Aruelle found herself pushed out._ Sister _?_

 _"I can't keep her." Audriel shoved the child away, shaking, her arms tensed around her stomach._

 _Aruelle felt her sister's panic, her complete and utter confusion, for it was swirling around them both._ Why, Audriel? She is your child.

 _"I - I can't."_

 _The girl started crying, great heaving sobs, and her mother was weeping too, smearing tears across her cheeks as she wiped at her eyes._

Audriel! Do something!

 _Audriel reached out, barely touching her daughter, and lifted her with shaking, icy hands. "Sister," she whispered, and there was a shred of hope in her voice. "You have always been there, though I know I have ill-treated you so very many times. Will you take her? Care for her as if she was your own?"_

 _Far away, Aruelle trembled, images flashing before her eyes. Her sister, raging through the woodland, her eyes utterly mad; her sister's daughter, cowering from Audriel's raised hand; her own children - both boys - and her inability to have any more. She had always longed for a girl-child, she thought, and perhaps this was Fate's way of fulfilling her request._

 _She looked down, through her sister's eyes, and searched the child's features._

Very well, _she whispered._ I will.

 _There was silence._

 _"Thank you," Audriel whispered, and broke down again, sobs wracking her frame, her pain sharper than any blade. "Oh, thank you."_

 _Aruelle shivered._ She will never know she was not wanted by her own mother _, she thought._ No child deserves that.

* * *

"I will leave you here," Treebeard groaned, "at the western borders of the forest. You can make your way north to your homeland from there."

Pippin froze, then started gesturing violently. "Wait! Stop! Stop! Turn around. Turn around. Take us south."

"South?" the tree rasped. "But that would lead you past Isengard."

"Yes, exactly!" Pippin cried. "If we go south, we can slip past Saruman unnoticed. the closer we are to danger, the farther we are from harm. It's the last thing he'll expect."

The tree's craggy features slowly forced themselves into a frown. "That doesn't make sense to me. But then, you are very small. Perhaps you're right." He exhaled. "South it is, then. Hold on, little Shirelings. I always like going south," he mused. "Somehow it always feels like going downhill."

"Are you mad?" Merry hissed. "We'll be caught.

Pippin shook his head. "No we won't. Not this time."

The two hobbits rocked with the tree's heavy footsteps, the lilting movement slowly lulling them towards sleep. They drifted awake sometime later, and found that the tree was still talking.

". . . and those little families of field mice that climb up sometimes and tickle me awfully. They're always trying to go somewhere where they -"

He broke off, gasping in horror.

The two hobbits looked up, still shaking the sleep from their eyes. All around them, there were the stumps of trees. Somehow, they looked like horifically broken bodies.

"Many of these trees were my friends," Treebeard whispered. "They were creatures I had known from nut and acorn."

Pippin swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, Treebeard."

"They had voices of their own," he rasped, and turned to Isengard, his voice dropping dangerously. " _Saruman_. A wizard should know better!" He bent slightly, inhaling, and then roared out into the darkness.

Merry and Pippin yelped, covering their ears as the echo started to slowly fade.

"There is no curse in Elvish, Entish, or the tongues of Men for this treachery," the tree growled.

Pippin focused on the great pounding sounds that had suddenly sprung up behind them. He turned. "Look! The trees! They're moving!"

Merry followed suit. "Where are they going?" he whispered.

"They have business with the orcs," the tree moaned. "And I have business tonight too - in Isengard, with rock and stone."

"Yes," Merry breathed.

"Come, my friends. The Ents are going to war. It is likely that we go to our doom." He sighed. "The last march of the Ents is nigh."

* * *

"Aragorn!" Tauriel snarled, grabbing at his arm without a second thought. "Aragorn! Look at me!"

He turned ever so slightly, and she saw with a pang that the light had gone out from behind his eyes. All the amusement, the hope, had vanished.

She wished that he was once more laughing at Gimli's antics, for most anything would be better than this.

"The fortress is taken," Theoden-king said heavily. "It is over."

Tauriel had a sudden urge to reach out and slap him. The men had visibly drooped at their ruler's words, and the last thing they needed was a further weakening of their morale.

"Aragorn!" she snapped again.

He met her eyes. "Aye?"

"Do you not remember?" she growled, dearly wishing she could clap him over the head in attempt to help him recollect his memory, for she did not wish to waste precious time explaining everything.

"I remember much," he said slowly, "but I do not know of what you speak."

She bit back a curse, but admitted to herself that she was at fault for not being clearer. "Gandalf," she hissed. " _Mithrandir_. Do you not remember what he said?"

His head snapped up. " ' _Look to my coming at first light on the fifth day'_ ," he whispered.

" ' _And at dawn, look to the east',_ " she finished for him. "Look at the horizon, Aragorn! Morning is nearly upon us. If we can hold on for just a bit longer, then help will surely come."

Aragorn turned, striding quickly over to Theoden's side. "You said this fortress would never fall while your people still defend it." He gestured at the men and women around them. "They still defend it. They have died defending it. Would you give up all hope as I nearly did?"

A sudden crash of wood, and Tauriel flinched slightly.

"Is there no other way for the other women and children to get out of the caves?" Aragorn demanded. "Are you _sure_ there is no other way?"

Gamling shifted. "There is one passage. It leads to the mountains, but they will not get far - the Uruk-hai are too many."

There was a sudden rush of movement, and Tauriel whirled, recognizing the footsteps.

"Eowyn," she hissed under her breath. "The king cannot see you, not now."

The girl nodded shakily, wiping at a smear of gore on one cheek. "The helmets," she whispered. "I can hide my face."

Tauriel did not bother to reply, shoving the girl in the general direction of the helms.

"All is lost," Theoden-king said softly. "All this waste - for naught."

"Tell the women and children to make for the mountain pass," Aragorn snapped, ignoring the king. "And barricade the entrance!"

"So much death," Theoden rasped. "What can Men do against such reckless hate?"

"Ride out," Audriel said without warning from directly behind Tauriel. Tauriel tensed, but forced herself to relax. She had not heard her mother approach.

Aragorn had turned, peering at Audriel carefully. His eyes were wary. "Of what do you speak?"

She stepped forward, and though she lacked a good half-head in height than even the shortest in the room, she was still imposing. "Ride out, all of you. Ride out and meet them."

Tauriel could have sworn that her words were echoing, sounding as if they came from many mouths. She shivered.

But Theoden-king had turned, his face brightening, eyes focused upon Audriel's. "Ride out to meet them," he said slowly. "For death and glory."

Audriel smiled then, and with a jolt Tauriel realized that her mother had known exactly what was going to happen when she uttered those particular words.

"Yes," Aragorn said, and he sounded almost happy. "Ride out with me. Ride out with me - with us - and meet them."

"For Rohan," Audriel said, her voice lilting now, rising above the harsh whispers that filled the room. "For your people."

Tauriel shook herself.

Something was wrong.

They were staring at her mother as if she was the finest, most precious jewel; even Aragorn and Gimli, though their eyes were sharper than all the rest.

"Go now," Audriel said, and smiled.

Tauriel saw Aragorn hesitate, saw him falter, and thought briefly that even if this was perhaps a good idea, there was something foul about the whole affair.

"The sun is rising," she said softly to him.

He turned, looking out the window. "Aye," he said, "it is."

She knew then that he was moving, speaking, of his own free-will, though she was not sure the others were.

Theoden rose up, straightening to his full height. "The horn of Helm Hammerhand shall sound in the deep one last time!"

" _Yes_!" Gimli fairly shouted, his eyes bright.

"Let this be the hour when we draw swords together!" the king roared, drawing upon some hidden reserve of strength. "For wrath, for ruin, for a red dawn! _Forth Eorlingas_!"

And suddenly the men were gone, leaving only a few women standing in silence, staring at the three elves, waiting for some sort of response.

"Go," Audriel snapped, regal as any queen. "Leave us."

Tauriel watched with some surprise as Legolas, Eowyn, and the rest did as her mother asked - no, _demanded_.

"What do you want?" she said hoarsely.

Audriel looked her daughter up and down. "You are hurt. Why have you not healed yourself?"

"What do you want?" Tauriel repeated, taking a step forward.

Audriel glanced downwards, but was not quick enough to hide the gleam of - expectation? - in her eyes.

"I fear I bring sober tidings," she said slowly. "The man - Boromir, was it?"

"Aye," Tauriel said slowly, "that is his name. What of him?"

Audriel met her daughter's eyes calmly. "He is dead."

* * *

 ***cough* sorry not sorry *cough***  
 **Fear not! There will be an explanation. :) I will update as soon as I can! Reviews, as ever, are love. ;)**


	32. Dawn

**On to the reviews, as promised. :)**

 **annie, , Ronan, glad you enjoyed it! "Mom" is currently throwing everyone (myself included, admittedly, which is not a good thing) for a loop. :p**  
 **guest, yes, Audriel was doing something similar to a mind trick.**  
 **xXx3LegTaur4Evr, yeah, I had fun writing that particular scene. 3  
Warriorheart5 and and ElvesRule, don't be so quick to say he's gone! :) Tauriel says he's still alive, but Audriel denies it. We'll have to see where it all goes.**

 **And to quote Irvin, _FORTH EORLINGAS!_**

 **Enjoy (well, I hope).**

* * *

There was a moment of numb disbelief, and then it hit her like a lightning bolt and she felt every bone in her body deny her mother's words.

"No," she said, her voice steady and foreign to her own ears. "That cannot be."

Audriel smiled again, that strange ripple spreading across her features. "Have you seen it, then?"

"I have not." Some other sense was surely guiding her words and actions, for her head was pounding so hard it felt as if it might explode and her fingertips were icy cold.

Audriel tilted her head to the side, looking much like a fox right before it pounced on its prey. "Then how do you know?"

Tauriel struggled for words, lifting a hand to her chest and resting it right above her heart. "I - I _feel_ it, here. Nothing has been - _torn_."

Audriel's eyes sparked with interest. "You must have had a strong connection with him, to sense him in such a way."

Tauriel turned away, the discomfort of her wounds flooding back over her. Each one, down to the smallest scratch, pulsed with every beat of her heart, right along with the scars on her neck and wrists. Her vision had started to blur dangerously, and she felt as if she might collapse.

Her mother was still staring at her, eyes slightly narrowed. "Look," she said, her voice softly lilting, drawing Tauriel in.

* * *

 _Boromir, gasping for breath, heaving with every inch of his body to draw in air. Muscles straining painfully on his torso as he reared up, falling back after only a short moment._

 _The blood that still trickled from his wounds was starting to turn dark and murky, the stench foul. Sweat beaded across his skin, and he called out hoarsely, but there was no one there._

 _A rasping of breath in his throat and he stilled, chest still rising and falling, but the rate of his breathing dangerously uneven. His head turned, very slowly, and he looked out into the darkness of the night. All around him, Edoras was very still, save for the rest of the heavily wounded and those who had dared to stay and care for them, but there was no one at his side._

 _He was alone, and perhaps, he thought, it was fittting._

 _And so he let his eyes drift shut - slowly, easily- and fell away from the pain and heartache._

* * *

Tauriel cried out, hands flying to her temples as she staggered backwards. Audriel continued to look at her daughter steadily, lip curled upwards slightly.

" _No_ ," Tauriel whispered raggedly. "No, this is not true. He is still alive, I know it - _feel_ it."

Audriel sighed, tucking her hands behind her back and slowly moving closer. There was a conciliatory look on her face, one that quickly smoothed over and turned to gentle understanding.

"I am sorry," she said.

Tauriel bowed her head and closed her eyes.

Audriel moved again, unclasping her hands and lifting them up as she examined her fingers - scrubbing at a smear of quickly-drying blood, picking at dirt underneath the fingernails. "I know who did it, you know," she said smoothly.

A moment passed before her words sunk it. Tauriel's eyes snapped open, sparking a dangerous green as they demanded an answer to her silent question.

Audriel turned away carelessly, avoiding a direct response. "I know you missed, that one time. I also know that you have fairly torn yourself apart over it. It was not your fault. Your arrows - they had been replaced with twisted shafts; it was pure misfortune that you happened to grasp at one only when Boromir's life was hanging in the balance."

Tauriel found herself struck with a sudden urge to let go, lose control, and shout mindlessly about all the things she _could_ have done; _should_ have done, but _hadn't_. Her loss of control of late had been increasingly disturbing.

"It was not just misfortune," she said steadily. "I had a part to play as surely as Fate's hand."

Her mother turned back, seeming much taller than she actually was. Quickly, she started listing on her fingers. "The dwarf's death - I know you felt he was much like a kindred spirit, unlikely though it was - was not your fault, though many, yourself included, thought it was. What you said to Legolas was indeed your doing, though I am sure you had your reasons. Your banishment - I hear it has been lifted? - was, again, mainly enforced because of you. Boromir's fall to the Ring's whispers was not your fault. Neither was Legolas's reaction towards you when you revealed your true identity - deceived though he was, you both know he would never have let you join them if you had not hidden your face away. Boromir's injuries were not your fault; indeed, you did everything within your power to prevent them. Likewise, you had no control over the two hobbits being captured by Orcs and carried away." A pause as she thought and then added, "Neither was your stallion's injury and demise something you could have prevented."

Tauriel closed her eyes and shoved deperately at the barrage of images threatening to overwhelm her. She could not deal with them, could no longer stare herself in the eye unflinchingly. She did not even bother to wonder how Audriel knew of the events, strange and unsettling as it was.

Audriel leaned forwards, eyes glittering. "Tell me, my daughter. Do you truly believe yourself to be as dark and broken as that?"

Tauriel shook her head slowly. "You cannot be the judge," she said. "You were not there."

Audriel waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, but I was. If not in person, then in memory. I have seen it all through many sets of eyes, and all, though colored with different opinions, come to the same conclusion when viewed rationally."

Tauriel retraced her way through the maze and grasped at the straggling thread of their previous conversation, following it home gladly. "Who was it, Audriel? Who did it, and how?"

Audriel looked confused for several heartbeats before her face cleared in understanding. "Do you truly wish to know?"

" _Yes_ ," Tauriel snapped, finding her patience wearing thinner than she had previously thought.

She sighed. "Very well." A pause, then, "It was the White Wizard - Saruman - though he did not act alone."

Tauriel took a moment to process this before replying. "How?" she asked heavily, and for some reason she was not in the least suprised.

"It was quite simple, really. He had one of his assistants" - the word was heavily laden with disgust- "glamour themselves and plant the arrows in your quiver. Your observation skills have often been lacking of late, my dear."

"Don't call me that," she snarled.

A pause, and a glimmer of anger, before she spoke again. "As you wish. From what I understood, you are often lost in thought or engaged in conversation with someone else. It makes it quite simple to slip past you. Even a mediocre thief or pickpocket would be able to remove the arrows in your quiver and replace them with the twisted ones."

"But how did they know which side to place them in?"

Audriel shrugged. "Mayhap it was but a lucky guess. Or perhaps they have been watching you for years, and know exactly what to do. We are straying from the original conversation," she added, a hint of annoyance coloring her words.

"And that was?" Tauriel asked warily. The mind games and tricky words were becoming tiresome.

Audriel's features brightened with anticipation. "We must find the wizard," she said. "And when we do, we will kill him."

"Why?" she said wearily. "Why destroy that which will be torn asunder by other hands? I do not have to lift a finger for his eventual death to take place; others will make sure of it. I do not want more blood on my hands."

Audriel laughed throatily, baring slightly pointed teeth. " _Why_ , Tauriel?" She sounded almost incredulous, as if the question was entirely ridiculous, as if her daughter should have already known the answer. " _Why_? He killed the one you called your mother. _He killed my sister."_

* * *

"Dawn is nearly here, and Shadow will fall away before it," Gandalf said. Behind him, there was a great tossing of heads and low pounding of soft hoofbeats as the horses and riders waited in relative silence. "I fear, though, it may be too late. Theoden-king stands alone."

"Nay," Eomer said, riding up beside the wizard. "He is alone no longer."

Gandalf smiled, the gentleness vanishing from his eyes. He raised his staff high as Shadowfax reared up, and a glow began to wash over them all. "Forth Rohirrim!" he roared, and Eomer echoed the cry.

They plunged downwards, the horses skidding slightly on the steep slope. As the Uruk-hai turned, a growl rising up from their ranks, another wave of light flew out from Gandalf's staff, blinding them. They staggered backwards, many dropping the deadly spear shafts that would have torn brutally through the horses rushing towards them.

A moment of utter stillness as the fate of them all hung in the balance, and then a deafening crash of armor and steel as the Rohirrim threw themselves into the fight.

Far away, Theoden whirled his own mount around in utter disbelief. "Eomer," he breathed.

"To the king!" Eomer was shouting, and suddenly the world around them was bright, sunlight streaming over the horizon, stabbing painfully at the Uruk-hai's eyes.

Dawn had come.

* * *

"A life for a life," Audriel said, and the anger in her voice was chilling. "He took one of my own, one of the last of my blood-kin, and now he must pay. He took your mother from you, Tauriel, and we must ensure that he never has a chance to do so again."

"But she was not my mother," Tauriel said, reaching for the murky memories she had of her first two decades in life. "You were."

"She was your mother in all but blood." There was a strange undercurrent in her voice now, one that Tauriel could not place.

"Aye," Tauriel said slowly. "She was. You were never there for me, but she always was, ready with a kind word or reassurance. She taught me how to fight, she molded me into what I was when the Elvenking took me in."

"I know," Audriel whispered.

"I cannot give you an answer. Not now. I am too weak, in mind and body, to be fully rational." Tauriel turned away, brushing at a drop of blood on her cheek. It smeared across her skin rather than wiping away, and she let her hand fall back to her side.

"Let me heal you." Audriel stepped forward, hands out, a warm glow already beginning to emanate from her fingertips.

Tauriel shook her head. "No. I will allow my wounds to heal naturally, as they should, when one is not in mortal danger. I thank you for your offer."

Her mother dropped her hands, a strange hurt flashing across her face.

Tauriel began to move away, making her way towards the exit. She found herself shaking slightly, both from exhaustion and expectation. She needed to see how the battle had turned; wanted to know if she should once again draw her blades and step out into the fight. Like Aragorn, she prefered to meet her end with daggers in hand and nothing between her and the sky.

"Tauriel."

She stopped and slowly spun. "Aye?"

Audriel's eyes, when they met her daughters, were haunting. "Do you love me?"

* * *

Legolas dismounted quickly, sending a last arrow or two after the retreating Uruk-hai, watching with satisfaction as they rushed towards the forest.

He had been hard-pressed to find a horse after Audriel had fairly banished him from the Keep, barely managing to join the main group of riders as they rushed across the bridge, plowing through the Uruk-hai massed there.

A sudden thought occured to him. "Wait!" he shouted after the Rohirrim currently running the Uruk-hai to the ground. "Stay out of the forest! Keep away from the trees!"

Eomer repeated his words, voice traveling much farther than Legolas's had. They watched with a mixture of awe and horror as the trees started to groan, branches rustling. There were a few guttural screams from the Uruks, and then silence.

The trees, when angered, were vicious; brutal even. The foul creatures did not have even a breath of hope.

Legolas almost - _almost_ , and it was a disgusting emotion in the current context - pitied them.

* * *

Tauriel searched her mother's face for a long moment, looking for some sign that this was nothing more than another act. Audriel's face was achingly vulnerable as she stared wistfully at her daughter.

She hesitated, a lie on the tip of her tongue - _yes, mother-_ but stopped herself.

"No," she said slowly. "I do not think I love you."

She might as well have slapped Audriel across the face. She crumpled, folding in onto herself. "Very well," she whispered.

"I am sorry."

Audriel lifted her face, eyes roving. "No," she said, "you aren't."

Tauriel flinched, but gathered herself. "You did not want me. You gave me away before I had seen the waxing of another moon. I was not what you wanted," she said bitterly. "I was not good enough. And now, after years of watching me, you appear and want me to accept you without hesitation."

Audriel hunched her shoulders, wrapping her arms around herself. "I know," she murmured. "I know."

"Why?" Tauriel asked softly, almost pleading.

Audriel shook her head, looking more like a child than an elf centuries old, capable of defeating all but the best in combat. "I do not remember," she said weakly.

Tauriel turned to leave, for though she had put up a strong, calm front, she was hurting inside. Every cold accusation and demand she made battered painfully in her chest.

"You do not understand," Audriel moaned, looking desperate. "I have tried. I have tried so hard, and I cannot. They are locked away, hidden behind walls so thick I cannot break through. Please. You must believe me."

Tauriel paused. "Why? Why should I? I cannot let myself love someone who will take that affection and turn it into a weapon."

She was nearly crying now, tears glistening in her eyes. "I think I did love you," she choked out. "I remember - looking down at you, and seeing your eyes, and thinking that you were just like me. You touched my cheek."

Tauriel swallowed the lump in her throat and steeled herself. "And what else do you remember- mother?" she demanded evenly.

Audriel glanced up. "It felt like my heart had been torn in two," she said simply. "I woke in darkness, and I felt so empty. I did not know where you were. And my wrists - " She stripped the armor away and held them out.

Tauriel recoiled.

A matching set of scars crisscrossed the pale skin. Shaking, Tauriel bared her own wrists and looked down at them. The scars upon them were pulsing again, and she wondered if Audriel's were doing the same.

"I found you again," Audriel rasped. "You were with my sister. And - you did not want me, Seena - Tauriel. I had already let you go, and it was too late. She was your mother, then. I was angry. Angrier than I should have been, and I left my sister on bad terms. I never saw her in life again."

Tauriel shivered, and for some reason an image of Legolas bloomed vividly in her mind's eye. If one of them should fall, she did not want their last words to each other to be ones of anger. "But I saw you again, didn't I," she whispered.

Audriel sighed. "Yes. I sometimes would go back to the woodland and visit my old home, and occasionally place flowers on Aruelle's grave. I saw you once, twice; perhaps even three times. I could not face you then. I was too weak. Perhaps I still am."

Tauriel inhaled shakily, fighting to remain calm. "The Golden Wood. You were there - Aneana, you called yourself. Why did you not tell me then?"

"You were just starting to pull yourself back together. I could not bring myself to step in the way of that." Audriel hid her face for a long moment. "My sister loved you. She loved you so much, more than I ever would have been capable of. I sometimes think that something inside me is broken, for it as if I cannot love as fully as I can hate." She brushed at her tears roughly. "Perhaps it was for the best you did not know me for who I was. Perhaps Aruelle was right."

Swallowing again, Tauriel grasped at a question that had long plagued her. "My father. Who is he?"

Audriel lifted her head and smiled sadly. "He loved you very much," she said softly. "He would have spilled his blood for you without a second thought. When he thought you were dead, it drove him mad."

She sucked in a sharp breath, barely noticing that her question had not been answered. "Arwen spoke true, then. Does he still live?"

Audriel closed her eyes, her voice suddenly freezingly cold. "No."

* * *

 _Sharp, sharp words, and even sharper eyes. He stared up at her with infinite malice, teeth gritted, and for the time being all the blurriness had been driven away._

 _"She is still alive," Audriel said icily. "She has been alive all this time. I thought you should know."_

 _He reached for her wrist, lightning-fast, and clung to it. "_ My daughter, _" he breathed. "She lives?"_

 _"Yes," she snarled, jerking away. "_ Our _daughter."_

 _He rocked back and forth, laughter bubbling up. It was not the mad sound it had been just minutes before, but was instead one of heartbreaking gladness. "Why?" he finally asked, joy replaced by suspicion. "Why did you tell me?"_

 _There was a moment of silence, and then she spoke._

 _"So you could know before I killed you," she said cruelly, lunging forward, a blade suddenly in her hand, and stabbing him through the heart with one quick motion._

 _He died with his daughter's name upon his lips, wishing that he could have seen her one last time._

* * *

Tauriel's face fell. "Thank you," she said softly, fighting back her disappointment and focusing on what she now did know.

But Audriel had shaken herself, pulled herself away from the past, and was visibly colder. "I am glad," she said, and straightened even more. "We should go."

Tauriel hesitated, slightly disoriented with the abrupt change of attitude. "Very well," she said.

Audriel inclined her head, indicating that Tauriel could go first, then touched her arm to stop her.

"Wait."

Tauriel did so willingly, half-hoping that her mother was once again opening up, disconcerting though it had been.

She was sorely disappointed.

"Do you have your answer?" Audriel asked flatly.

Tauriel traced their conversation back to her mother's original question. She paused, mouth half-opened as she prepared a detailed answer on what she was and was not willing to do, but ended up replying with a single word.

"Yes," she said simply.

Audriel smiled abruptly, lighting up her face, and placed a hand over her heart. "Thank you."

Tauriel half-smiled back, feeling as if she might, perhaps, allow herself to grow closer to her mother. She still hurt, but she thought that in time the pain would fade. She would not forget - she would never forget - but she could make new memories, and cherish them dearly. But above all, she craved her mother's approval, though she would never admit it; for she had been deemed unworthy once already, and being abandoned again was a deep-seated, secret fear.

"Come," Audriel said, but this time made no move to allow Tauriel to go first.

Instead, they moved together - mother and daughter, so alike in appearance and so different in manner, but they shared blood, and it was enough.

* * *

"Final count, forty-two," Legolas announced, stepping neatly over a puddle of dark, foul-smelling blood and coming to a halt before Gimli.

"Forty-two? That's not bad for a pointy-eared elven princeling. I," the dwarf continued haughtily from around his pipe, "am currently sitting pretty on forty-three."

Legolas lifted a brow, and in the space of a heartbeat had nocked, aimed, drawn, and fired at the Uruk-hai Gimli was seated on.

The dwarf yelped, jumping slightly.

"Forty-three," Legolas said, sounding just a bit too self-satisfied.

"He was already dead!" Gimli roared.

"He was twitching."

"He was twitching because he's got my ax embedded in his nervous system!"

"Enough, the both of you," someone said easily, a breath of laughter in their voice, and they turned in surprise.

Tauriel was walking towards them, her steps almost perfectly smooth.

Legolas's eyes traveled across her body, noting the clean tunic and slight bulges in the fabric where bandages were surely protecting injuries. There were far too many for his taste.

"You are well?" he asked evenly.

She hesitated for just a second too long before answering. "I am."

"Your count?" Gimli asked from around his pipe, apparently caring for little else.

Her half-smile faded. "Sixty-nine," she said softly.

Gimli grunted, seemingly not noticing the change in her manner. "Good for you," he growled. "You beat pointy-ears by a good margin."

Tauriel glanced at Legolas for a moment before turning her attention back towards Gimli. "Aye," she said, smiling almost kindly. "I suppose I did." Her eyes flicked back towards Legolas once more. "But he perhaps he played another part in the battle, one other than fighting."

Gimli grunted again, clearly unwilling to accept that as fact.

Legolas stared at her for a long moment, recognizing her words as something of a truce, hesitant though it was - but nothing more.

He nodded, once.

She looked at him for several heartbeats, and he felt as if she was staring right through him, into his deepest secrets and darkest fears. Chills raced across his skin.

Her gaze snapped away. "I must speak to Mithrandir," she said. "There are matters of import to discuss, and they cannot wait."

* * *

Gandalf sighed, looked so very weary that Tauriel almost regretted bringing her thoughts to him.

"You believe Merry and Pippin are with the Ents of Fangorn Forest, are currently enjoying the former White Wizard's storehouse, and will remain at Isengard for quite some time," he said, the words not quite a question, sounding more than a little incredulous.

"Aye," Tauriel said. "I know that it must seem impossible, but I believe it to be true."

"Tell me, then. How do you know this?"

Tauriel frowned. "I saw them. I know no other way of describing it."

Mithrandir arched one bristling eyebrow. "You have finally learnt to use your Second Sight, I take it?"

She hesitated. "No," she said slowly. "I am still doubtful if I am in the possession of such a gift. All I know is that sometimes, when I close my eyes, it is as if there is a great fire burning behind my lids, and I see things I should not be capable of seeing. It used to feel as if I was wrapped in flames; my skin was so hot I could barely stand to touch myself, yet it did not hurt. I would occasionally get a terrible pounding in my head, and for a time I feared I was going mad."

Gandalf rubbed at his temples. "I see."

"She is still attempting to deny it," someone drawled from the doorway. Tauriel flinched, though Gandalf did not.

"Mother," she said, half to herself.

Audriel glided into the room, the unnerving light of her eyes back in place. "She has had the gift for many years now," she continued, ignoring the wizard's horror-struck face. "It has only now started to fully develop. She used to have terrible dreams; visions, though she did not realize it. Now, she has almost successfully repressed them all, though they are tearing her apart from the inside. She must learn to use her gifts - to control them. And I," she added, looking overly pleased with herself, "will be the one to teach her."

* * *

 **At this point, it's up to y'all to figure out if Audriel's telling the truth or not, if she really cares for Tauriel, ect., ect. There's a lot of back story we're going to be covering before the end of this fic.**  
 **I checked dates, and I've been working on TBE for almost a year now. Gah. Can't believe it's been that long! Thank you all for sticking with me. :)**

 **Quick question: I'm always looking to improve as a writer. If y'all don't mind giving me some criticism, what would you like to see changed? On a slightly different note, are there any scenes you would like to see put in here other than the requests I received previously?**

 ** _Ashes_ is up! :D **


	33. Nevermore

**Thank you all for your patience and amazing support. :) I still can't believe we've made it this far!**

 **VickyPotaski, you're very welcome. ;)**  
 **morgynstarlight, it was mentioned in So Be It briefly, but has not been covered here yet. I will eventually name him, but he's no one important.**  
 **Guest, glad you enjoyed it.**  
 **Guest, ooh, yes, definitely! *rushes off to plan particular scene***  
 **And hopelesselfaddict pointed out something that I wanted to clear up for y'all - the first vision last chapter was one Audriel forced Tauriel to see. The second vision/flashback was a memory of Audriel's, one that Tauriel did NOT see. Sorry if this was confusing for any of you.**

 **On to the chapter!  
**

* * *

 _She stared up at him, eyes wide and green in the pale stretch of skin across her face._

 _Fingers scrabbled at the sheet of ice that separated them, scraping until the water began to stain dark with blood._

 _She was running out of breath._

 _He ran towards her, but there was no time._

 _Never enough time._

 _Bubbles rose from her lips as her fingers went limp, and she was falling away from him, sinking beneath the surface, arms still stretched upwards, eyes still open, and he knew that it was over._

 _And suddenly they were in a forest, and she was facing him with blue-tinted lips and a great sopping mess of wet hair that straggled over her shoulder like a scarlet cloak._

 _Her eyes were no longer green. They were pools of shadow set above sharp cheekbones, shining darkly in the half-light._

 _Abruptly, she shifted, her face changing in shape until he was looking at her mother._

 _A smile twisted her lips, all sickening satisfaction, and then she was jerking at her own skin, pulling it away until he could see the very framework of her body. A twist and a crack that made him close his eyes, and she was holding a blade of sharpened, pearly-white bone._

 _"You tore her heart in two."_

 _An aching silence, for his lips could not form words._

 _"Why did you do it?" she asked. "After everything, why?"_

 _She lunged forward with hand extended, and he knew that he was dead even as he felt a great ripping sensation in his chest and she jerked her hand away._

 _Cradled inside it, dripping in blood, was his own heart. It was still pumping, bleeding out before him, and somehow he was still watching it all through death-clouded eyes._

 _His body collapsed to the moist earth._

 _"Your turn," she purred. "The forest will welcome you home gladly after so long."_

* * *

He awoke gasping for breath, pulse rocketing sky-high, blinking rapidly to clear the dryness that occasionally accompanied sleeping with his eyes open.

The dreams were getting worse again.

* * *

Eowyn faced Theoden with fists clenched, her chin lifted in a weak show of defiance.

The king stared at her with quickly rising anger and disbelief. "You defied me," he said freezingly. "You disobeyed your uncle's - nay, your king's - direct orders."

"There was need of me elsewhere," she said, clinging tightly to the scraps of adrenaline that had carried her through the battle. "I am sorry."

Theoden clutched at his forehead, his lips moving soundlessly. "The elf," he finally said, and his voice was surprisingly calm. "She came to me and asked that some women fight. In my worries I granted her request without questioning her motives; I will not make that mistake again. You are forbidden to fight, now or ever."

Eowyn flinched. "I am sorry," she said again, sounding truly regretful, but was not quite finished. "I am sorry, but I cannot do as you command. Every blade, be it carried by man or woman, elf or dwarf, is needed. And I feel that this is what I was meant to do - it has been sparking inside me for a long time now I think."

Theoden sagged forward. "You are so very like your mother," he mumbled.

Something told her this was not exactly a compliment.

"What would you have me do?" the king demanded. "You are of my blood, but you have defied me. As a ruler, I cannot let this go unpunished, but as your kin I am still relieved you are even alive. You have caught me between two stone walls, Eowyn, and I have no clear path set before me."

She winced, doing her best to gather her thoughts. "I am no king or queen," she said slowly. "I do not think I will ever wish to be, and therefore I cannot pretend to understand your troubles. But it I may ask this of you, please, answer me honestly - how would the battle have fared without our help, menial though it may have been compared to others? We fought as bravely as the men. And if elves allow female warriors into their ranks, why do you persist in trying to keep me - us - away from something we can in fact perform well?"

Theoden turned on her with a sudden burst of anger. "Do not deign to tell me what I should and should not do," he growled, though she had not exactly done so. "I am king, and I do only what I feel best for my people - and my kin. I try to protect them, to guide them as best I can through this lingering Shadow that crawls across the lands like poison in our veins; to save them as I failed to save my son." He closed his eyes. "You cannot possibly understand."

Eowyn stood strong, though inside she was trembling, for she had never dared to push this hard or climb so high. If she missed her handholds, if she slipped, she could fall, and it would be a painful landing.

"You do try to protect me," she said softly. "And you are right - I cannot understand, for I am not yet a mother. But in striving to hold me close, you are doing nothing but pushing me farther away. I want to fight, I will fight; and if you will not let me I will find someone who will."

"The elf has filled your ears with poison," he said flatly. "I will do my best to make sure she has no chance to do so again."

Eowyn choked down a gasp. "You cannot! To kill her, to punish her in some way, would be seen as an act of war. Our country cannot afford this, now or ever."

His eyes sparked. "When did I ever say anything about killing her?"

She swallowed, opening her mouth to answer.

"Enough," he snapped. "I would never harm her - would not even consider it a vague and distant option - and you should know better. She is as important in this battle as the Elvenking's son himself. Your being so quick to believe that to be true of me is yet more proof of your ignorance and incapability when it comes to these matters." He waved a hand in cold dismissal. She thought it odd until she saw the repressed anger and stubborn refusal to bend in his eyes, and behind it all there was pain - she had almost forgotten that he still ached from the loss of Theodred; it seemed to her like another world and time. "Go, then. Find whoever you wish. I do not have the patience or the energy to deal with you now. I will not punish you - perhaps you only did what you thought right; but neither will I praise or honor you. Go, go . . ."

She opened her mouth, wishing she could say something to break down the wall that now seemed to stand between them.

For a moment, she was ready to say she was sorry; say she wouldn't pick up a blade again. She would stay behind walls and she would do as he bid, but stopped.

She couldn't.

She bowed her head and turned away.

* * *

"Saruman's storeroom," Merry breathed, awestruck.

"I don't believe it," Pippin said incredulously. "Is that a barrel of Longbottom Leaf from the South Farthing?"

"It can't be."

The two hobbits edged forwards, picking their steps carefully. Wrenching the lid off of one barrel, they stared down into it with round eyes.

"It is!" Pippin fairly squealed in delight.

"Longbottom Leaf," Merry sighed, inhaling deeply. "The finest prep-weed in the South Farthing."

"It's perfect," Pippin crowed. "One barrel each." He handed one to Merry, then paused. "Wait. Do you think we should share with Treebeard?"

"Share it?" Merry said, sounding surprised. "No, no." He picked up a leaf and examined it. "Dead plant and all that. I don't think he'd quite understand. Could be a distant relative."

* * *

Gandalf stared at Audriel for a moment in incredulous horror that managed to blind him to her words and the easy, almost gentle manner that she addressed Tauriel.

"Seena," he finally managed to say, and they both turned to look at him, each with a single eyebrow raised in question.

 _Like mother like daughter._

The sight was enough to make his stomach roll.

"My apologies, Tauriel," he said. "Audriel, I was addressing you."

She crossed her arms over her chest and smirked at him in a way that could only be described as playful. "Yes, old friend?" she said kindly, but there was a poisonous undercurrent to her words and a glint in her eyes that warned him to tread with care, though he was undeniably much stronger than she was.

Tauriel frowned, looking between the two with mild confusion. "You know each other well?"

"Oh, indeed," Audriel said, all sweet smiles and words dripping with honey. She had turned on the charm, and Mithrandir was again reminded of how she could spin on a dime and still manage to come out on top. "We met a very long time ago."

"Audriel." There was a hint of a warning in his voice now, and he saw her hesitate, green eyes quickly calculating, weighing the odds and reaching a decision.

"Did you wish to talk to me, Mithrandir?" she asked.

He nodded tersely, waiting for her daughter to take the hint and leave. He was not sure where the relationship between the two stood, nor how much Tauriel knew, but he was not about to risk destroying Tauriel's fragile happiness, or at least what it seemed to be. The Valar knew she deserved it, after so long.

Tauriel hesitated, clearly noticing the sparking in the air, but turned and left the room. The back of his mind registered her limp, but did not bring up the subject for further internal discussion.

Gandalf sighed heavily, leaning forward on his walking stick. "You are back once more, then."

Audriel leaned against the wall, trying her best to appear bored. "Aye."

"What do you want with Tauriel? Must you once again treat her as a pawn, a player in your games that you have not quite decided where to place?"

She frowned. "She is not a pawn. And I have already decided on her place."

"And what is it?" he asked, at a lack of anything else to say. Trying to change the conversation with this particular elf was like trying to prevent water from flowing downstream and often had unfortunate consequences.

"She is a leader," Audriel said, her eyes sparkling oddly. "She is strong, and the fire within her burns so bright it blinds the ones around her. She is broken, like a bird with her wings clipped so close she can barely get off the ground. She is my daughter, my blood and bone, and she is like me."

Mithrandir had several opinions on that little speech, but wisely refrained. "I hope she is nothing like you," he said bluntly, and saw her flinch.

"I disgust you." Her voice was clipped, tightly reined in, with barely any emotions leaking through. "And therefore you hate me, for few are satisfied with disgust alone."

His brow furrowed. "No. You do not disgust me, nor do I hate you. Indeed, my feeling on the matter are quite the opposite. What you were born with - it was not your fault. But you took your world and spun it into the webs that now cover the darkness of the Greenwood, and even when the path offered you another choice you did not take it."

"Do not pretend to be sorry for what I have done or been through, Mithrandir. One cannot change the will of the very gods themselves," she snapped.

"Interpretations vary," he said mildly. "I indeed pity you for the rage you carry within your heart and the shadow in your blood. I wish you had chosen a different way, Audriel, and that is no lie."

"Do not bother to pity me, wizard. Rage is the greatest gift I have ever been given. It has carried me through battles no other being, mortal or not, would have been able to conquer."

"Anger rarely brings about good, Audriel," he said, almost gently. "It is so often the source of what can be dark and evil in this world, and to carry that much within in you take a terrible toll upon your person."

"You are wrong," she said flatly. "And do not try to change my mind. I have heard enough. I am here to try to make amends with my daughter, though I know you will do everything you can to stop me. I am trying to change, and if that does not satisfy you nothing will. Do not try to prevent me from traveling with you, Gandalf - it will end badly." She faltered towards the end, her words losing their acidic confidence.

His eyes had abruptly stopped their mild twinkling, now icy and more than a little intimidating. He merely looked at her for a long moment, not deigning to say anything.

She visibly quailed beneath his gaze.

"Well," he said, sinking back into his grandfatherly persona - an image that was dangerously deceiving. "I suppose we are done here."

* * *

"Do you think they'll come for us?" Pippin asked, exhaling deeply. "The rest of the Fellowship, I mean."

Merry laughed. "You just want to see if Seena is still with them," he snickered.

Pippin glared. "As if you don't care!"

Merry leaned back against the wall. "I suppose I do. She's so different than the other one."

"The other elf?"

"What's-his-name - Leggy-something? That one. The one that barely talks and always stares at Seena."

"Seena was nice," Pippin said dreamily. "I wonder if they knew each other before."

Merry snorted out through his nose. "Oh, yes they did."

Pippin frowned. "Then why did they never seem to talk and glared at each other as if they hated the other?"

He shrugged, sucking on his pipe. "How would I know? Elves are such strange things. Anyone who keeps their hair that long can't be fully right in the head."

* * *

"Tauriel." Gandalf's voice was heavy.

She turned from the rhythmic sharpening of her blades, hiding a wince as numerous cuts pulled painfully. "Aye?"

"What is the understanding between Audriel and yourself?" He leaned hard on his staff as he bent to seat himself beside her.

She frowned, setting the stone aside as the dagger flipped slowly in her palm. "What do you mean? I was unaware an understanding was required."

He sighed tiredly, though not with irritation. "What do you know of her past, and she of yours?"

"In all honesty, I do not know," Tauriel said carefully, sheathing the dagger with a quick, clean snick. "She seems to know much more about me than I her. She says that she has seen it all, if not in person that in memory."

He was regarding her keenly, and she somehow got the impression that he was deciding something important.

"Do you trust your mother?" Mithrandir asked slowly.

Her brow furrowed as she hesitated. "No," she said quietly, "I do not. She is my mother, and therefore I should trust her, but I do not. Indeed, I cannot, for there is a trembling in my bones that is warning me. She wants something from me that I cannot understand, and it worries me. I cannot read her as I have read others." She turned her face towards him, exposing the pale stretch of her neck and the single raised line upon it. "If I may ask, Mithrandir, what do you know?"

He met her gaze steadily, a gentle twinkle in his eyes that was somehow more reassuring than a hundred promises from others. "I know that she is like you, in some ways, but there is a dark seed inside her that no one can pull out. I once tried, I must add, and succeeded only in making things worse."

"What lies between the Elvenking and my mother?" she asked, still digging for more information.

The lines in his face seemed to deepen. "Their battle for control of the woodland and several other matters," he said heavily. "I can say no more."

Silence fell for a minute as she digested this piece of information. "Why does she so wish to teach me to contain what she sees as my foresight - my _power_?"

He half-smiled then, folding his hands upon the top of his staff. "And there you have the not-so-great mystery of what I believe Audriel wants: a source of discovery, of knowledge, of power. She needs to know what is happening; craves control over something she may not fully understand. I think that above all there is a secret hidden part of her that fears if she does not know she will be weak."

"She sees me as a threat," Tauriel said softly.

Gandalf dipped his head in acknowledgment. "Perhaps."

"She said she loved me, once." The word fell from her lips almost unbidden, and she wanted to regret them as soon as she heard herself begin to speak.

The wizard was silent for a long moment. "Against my own better judgment, I would be inclined to believe her. When she speaks of you, there is a glow in her eyes that I have not seen since she was not even of age. She did - likely even still does - care for you in some way."

Tauriel exhaled, a great weight lifting from her shoulders. "Thank you," she half-whispered.

Mithrandir examined her carefully, eyes roving across her face. "And do you love her?"

She flinched ever so slightly. "I do not know. There is a strange warmth in my chest when I am close to her. I am not entirely sure I want to love her; I know full well that it would be a great weapon in her hands."

He looked at her with a deep sense of understanding in his eyes, and she felt in her heart that he knew the turmoil within her and did not judge her for it; indeed, he seemed to be glad of it. "Just remember," he said gently, "that all she says may not be true. Do not trust her without question, no matter what she has done to prove herself to you. I am glad indeed, Tauriel, that she has come back for you and truly seems to care. Perhaps you will be the piece of her that has always been missing and she will at long last stop searching."

She nodded. "I will remember." She glanced upwards, her eyes luminous, as he slowly rose, back creaking painfully.

"Ah, yes," he said, turning back to face her. "I almost forgot. They are looking for you. Go. We will ride out soon."

He walked away before she could even ask who "they" were, and whether or not they were riding to Isengard.

* * *

Gimli peered at Tauriel with a decidedly unwelcome display of curiosity. "Exactly how many bandages do you have wrapped around those wounds, lass?"

She coughed in an effort to stall for time as she searched for an adequate response, and the dwarf quickly hid the gleam in his eyes. Blast it all, the elf had been right.

"A few," she finally said, at a lack for anything else to say.

Gimli nodded as if this was a new piece of information. "Are the cuts still bleeding?"

"No," she said easily.

He grunted. "Then why is there a fresh blood stain on your hip?"

Her quick, almost desperate glance downwards betrayed her.

He chuckled humorlessly. "It seems pointy ears was indeed correct in his assumptions. You can come out now," he added, calling the last bit out louder than he had been speaking previously.

Tauriel took several rapid steps backwards, eyeing the exit. "You have ambushed me," she said, sounding almost accusing. "I never would have guessed this of you, Gimli."

He shrugged without regret. "It's for your own good, lass. We can't have you bleeding out right in front of us, can we?"

"And yet," a new voice added - Legolas - with more than a little irritation, "that is exactly what you will do if someone does not force you to care for yourself properly."

The dwarf watched with sharp eyes as Tauriel paled rapidly. "Legolas," she said flatly. There was no hint of a welcome in her words.

Gimli's eyes flicked between the two, a knowing grin creeping onto his lips. Pointy ears was looking decidedly uncomfortable, and while they had banded together to try and get Tauriel to care for herself, he certainly would not protest if she decided to make Legolas's life a tad more miserable.

"Here," Legolas said evenly, holding out a small, round disk of leather. "An elven balm, developed by Adreh specifically for use upon my father's wounds. It will help them remain clean, dull the pain, and reduce scarring."

Tauriel looked at it as one might glare at a sworn enemy. Gimli thought to himself that the elf had predicted this quite well, too - she was impossibly stubborn and seemed to care little for her well-being.

"I don't want it," she said coldly. "Give it to the healers; there are more than enough wounded both here and in Edoras."

Legolas's jaw jumped slightly as he gritted his teeth. "Gimli, Aragorn and I are all in agreement that you should make sure you are in the best possible health before we ride out. Even Mithrandir has given his consent."

"Consent for what?" she snapped.

He winced visibly. Gimli cackled to himself; this was getting better and better.

"If we deem your injuries too severe, we will delay the journey to Isengard." The words fell reluctantly from the elf's lips.

She stiffened abruptly. "That will not happen," she said flatly.

"Then please, use this," Legolas said, arm still extended.

Tauriel was still for a long, tense moment. Gimli held his breath, wondering if it would work.

Slowly, she reached out to take it. Her fingers touched the bag as little as possible, treating it as if it were a deadly poison.

With a steady hand, she stowed it on her belt and returned to glaring at Legolas. Gimli puffed contentedly on his pipe. It was clear they both thought he was oblivious to their _situation_ , as he liked put it, but nothing could have been farther from the truth.

There was a long, painful silence. Legolas seemed to wilt before her dangerously sparking eyes, his shoulders loosing their straightness. In direct contrast, Tauriel was ramrod straight.

"There's a fair puddle of blood at your feet," Gimli finally drawled.

Tauriel hissed out a breath at his sudden interruption, eyes snapping towards him. "I am fine."

Legolas recovered somewhat. "It does not appear that you are. Such large blood loss could be fatal."

Tauriel grasped at one wrist with the opposite hand, clearly restraining herself, and not for the first time Gimli wondered why it seemed to be such a habitual movement. "I have lived through worse," she said evenly.

Gimli blew a smoke ring. "Go and use the balm, lass. It will do nothing but good."

Legolas nodded in agreement.

She heaved a sigh, slumping a bit. "Very well," she said. "It appears I have sorely misjudged the stubbornness of you both. And the journey cannot wait." She nodded her head tersely, turning on her heel and exiting the room as quick as she possibly could.

Neither Legolas or Gimli missed the sharp jolt of unevenness in her steps.

"Well," said Legolas after a moment of silence, "that was surprisingly easy."

Gimli grinned. "I wonder what will happen when she finds out you lied to her."

Legolas did not look pleased at the reminder of yet another deception on his part, another black mark on his name.

"If you care for my well-being at all," he said wearily, "you will not tell her."

Gimli didn't look concerned in the least. "Oh, I don't worry about me, pointy ears. Worry about her. And don't forget the mother, either. That's never a wise choice."

Abruptly, Legolas froze. "Gimli," he said hoarsely, "we forgot to tell her about the side-affects."

* * *

Tauriel stared down at the small satchel of leather, fighting to keep her lip from curling upwards in distaste.

The balm smelt _terrible_.

Slowly, she dipped her fingers into the thick liquid-like substance, swirling it around for a moment in hopes of mixing it together.

She lifted her hand closer to her eyes - and, unfortunately, her nose - and nearly gagged. The sticky fluid smeared over her fingers looked and smelt similar to pus from a wound when it had gone rotten.

Gritting her teeth, she lowered her hand to her newly-bared hip and began the awkward process of smearing the balm over the still blood-seeping wound.

It stung slightly at first, the sensation strange against the pulse of her heartbeat.

She hesitated, then reluctantly began gathering more onto her hand, beginning the slow process of applying the mixture to her other injuries. Thankfully, the smell had started to fade, her nose becoming used to the awful stench.

They all burned a bit when first coated, and then began to numb. If she had not known better, she would have thought she was not injured at all.

Quickly tightening the drawstring, she placed the balm in the belt at her feet and began pulling on her clothes as fast as she possibly could. She hated the chill and vulnerability that came with stripping down to bare skin

Abruptly, the world blacked out, and she staggered, catching her elbow on the wall as she tried to steady herself.

She blinked hard, and slowly the world came back into focus. Colors had paled; the images her eyes registering were grainy, nearly black and white.

She leaned back against the cold stone, eyes closed, heart pounding hard in her chest.

Something was wrong.

She started to open her eyes.

" _Tauriel_."

She froze.

 _No._

 _No._

 _This cannot be._

"Tauriel," they said again, low and soft and oh so very familiar. "Look at me."

Slowly, painfully, she did so.

And Kili smiled, he smiled at her, and vaguely she felt her skin turn white-hot as the world burst into flames.

* * *

 **On a more personal note, I am dealing with a lot of things right now that I'm not going to get into in depth here. I know some of y'all know already. Please bear with me as I work this through as best I can. :) I will try my best to keep updates coming, but they may be further apart than usual.**

 **Thank you all so much. :) Love y'all!**


	34. Hallucination

**Wow - thank y'all so, so much for the outpouring of support. You have no idea how much it means to me that you took the time to leave me - a completely random stranger online - such beautiful, encouraging words. You guys made me cry, though they were happy tears. :) Ironically, I've had more time to write due to this, so hopefully my writing schedule won't change again.**

 **ElvesRule, annie, thank you so much.**  
 **Guest, TLC008, starlitstarbrit, glad you enjoyed it!**  
 **morgynstarlight, thank you so much for your prayers. Hopefully this chapter will explain a bit more of what happened.**

 **Warning- strong trigger warnings for this chapter. It's also quite long and heavy, with some important plot points, so pay attention. :) Hopefully it isn't quite as dull as it seems at first, and y'all aren't do disappointed by the not-so-happy ending.**

 **Make sure you check the AN at the bottom. :) Some good news about the next chapter!**

* * *

He was advancing upon her, his steps low and quick, and even they rang a sharp, sweet bell in her mind, because she still _remembered_.

Her heart was fairly beating its way out of her chest.

"Tauriel," he said again.

She licked her lips; her mouth was paper-dry. "Kili," she managed to gasp out, and like a fool she stood gaping at him.

Her mind screamed that this _was not real._

He was dead. She had _seen_ him die.

And yet here he was, standing before her with calm dark eyes and a soft smile upon his lips. His clothes were clean, his face nearly clean shaven.

"You look well," he said.

Tauriel sputtered out a vague answer and hauled more air into her aching lungs.

She had to be dreaming, she told herself. But in her dreams he never looked like this, and rarely was he even alive. The lack of a blade protruding from his chest told her that either her consciousness had come up with a new way to torture her or he really _was_ here.

Staggering somewhat, she took several swift steps forward and placed a hand on Kili's chest.

Warmth flooded over her palm, muted somewhat by the layers of cloth, and beneath her fingertips his heart beat a steady tattoo.

She drew back as if burned.

"You are alive," she said, her voice flat with incredulous, half-relieved shock.

"Not quite," he answered, and confusion washed over her.

"Then how are you here?" she whispered.

He shrugged easily. "I know not. My heart beats strong, yet I am not still living. I am a mere ghost of what I was before."

"I saw you die," she whispered. "I am sorry, Kili."

He half-smiled at her, but there was a hint of bitterness in the twist of his lips. "The beast was killed, at least."

"But not by my hand," Tauriel pointed out, her voice trembling ever so slightly. "In that, too, I failed."

Kili eyed her for a long moment, seemingly on the verge of saying something, but stopped. Tauriel had her fists clenched at her sides, tight enough that her nails - even though they were short-clipped - dug half-moons of pain into the thick callouses.

"You kept your promise," he finally said evenly, and unconsciously she relaxed slightly.

"Yes," she said softly. "I did." In her right hand she rolled her fingers together, as if rubbing them across the smooth surface of a stone.

"My mother. How did she react? Was she well?" There was a strange note in his voice.

Tauriel closed her eyes briefly. In her mind's eye she saw the dwarven lady, her face at first creased with distrust and then folding into deep lines of grief. She could barely remember her name, but the incredible emptiness in Kili's mother's eyes would haunt her until the day she died. She had lost everything with the stroke of a blade.

"She wept," she said, her voice breaking. "I gave her the rune stone, as you bid me." She kept the rest to herself - she did not want to speak of it, though it was another great weight in her heart.

"And what about you?" Kili asked, his eyes dark and piercing. "And the elf prince?"

Tauriel shuddered. "He lied to me."

"But you lied to him."

"What of it?" she demanded, a spark of annoyance taking hold. "I am done with it all. All those who care for me end up coming to harm. And I cannot seem to function properly when all I feel are his eyes upon me, searching for something I cannot give him. Not now." She saw the flash of jealousy in Kili's eyes - he knew that she had never felt such emotions in his presence.

"Your mother is back," he finally said evenly.

Tauriel flinched. "You know of her?" The fact he was surely an illusion, a figment of her battle-crazed mind, did nothing to lessen the stab of unease she felt.

He smiled darkly. "I know everything."

She took a quick step back, her eyes flicking across the stone walls and towards the barred door.

"What do you mean?" she asked steadily.

Kili lifted his face upwards, and there was a twist to his features that made a shiver snake down her spine. "I know everything," he repeated.

She sucked in a shaky breath. His words were heavy with implications.

"You cannot," she whispered.

His head tilted to the side. The gentle smile was gone, swept away as if it had never been there in the first place.

"You _tried_ to die," he said, and though he had not moved an inch it seemed as if he was standing right before her. "You _deserved_ to die, then. We both know it. You _almost_ died. But tell me this, Tauriel - why did you not fade?"

She staggered backwards, the breath leaving her lungs in a painful rush of air.

 _You_ deserved _to die._

All the old fears and pains and _emptiness_ flooded back, and she found her fingers aching for something to hold on to - if not the hilt of a blade, then the edges of her tunic.

"You think I should have died," she gasped through her rapidly closing throat. She fought, pushing at the swell of darkness in her mind, knees beginning to give in.

Kili cocked his head to one side, looking almost pleased. "Oh, yes. You lied, you stole, you betrayed your own kin and threatened to kill your king - you would have followed through with it, too. And then you let yourself fall. Yes, you deserved to die. Instead of trying to find another path in life, you took the easy way out - death, by your own hand even. We both know that by the time you had reached that level of despair, you should have faded. And yet you didn't. Indeed, twice you tried to die and twice your attempts were thwarted. You were - _are_ \- a coward."

Her fingers released the tunic and wrapped around the opposite wrist, seeking comfort. Her heartbeat had risen dangerously.

 _Thud._

 _Thud._

 _Thud._

A pause as she tried to calm herself, reaching for the fringes of what she knew was real. And this illusion of Kili couldn't possibly be grouped into that small, tightly woven webwork that she had spent long hours constructing as her body pulled itself back from the brink of death.

"You are nothing," she said, heaving for breath. _Please_. Her throat was tight; she could barely force the words out. "You are no one. You are dead."

 _You are real._

She felt her heartbeat, beneath her fingertips and within her chest, pushing blood throughout her body; the _whoosh_ of air in her lungs, the sting of her wounds as they bled out onto her skin with every pulse of her heart. The balm had apparently ceased to work. She could feel the warm, wet liquid as it slid across her skin.

"Go away," she said flatly.

"I'm sorry," he said kindly, almost regretfully, "but I can't."

"You are not real."

His eyes flashed bright with malice. "I am as real as you are, for you made me. And I will never let you go, for as you are whole I am too and to tear me away from you would be to destroy yourself."

"Then you are not Kili," she whispered, and though she fought it there was a great ache of disapointment in her chest, buried behind the spasming of the old, secret fears she had tried so long to push away.

He laughed.

Bright, happy, joyful.

"Oh, Tauriel," he said as he smiled, "I am sorry - sorry for everything. You tried so hard, but in the end you always failed. I can do nothing to you now that you have not done to yourself."

Silence.

He knew where it would hurt the worst.

She felt tears stab at her eyes and tried desperately not to let them fall.

She would not cry.

She did not cry then.

She would not cry now.

And still he smiled at her.

The black and white shading of the room sputtered as she stared unfocused at the wall, teeth gritted so hard her jaw ached.

Abruptly, color flooded back before her eyes.

She blinked.

A single teardrop fell from the corner of her eye and landed on her lashes. She swiped at it and then looked around.

Kili - or whatever he had been - was gone.

Nothing remained to signal his previous presence in the room save the pain deep within her and the heat that was rapidly blossoming within her veins.

She inhaled shakily, sinking to the floor and burying her head in her knees.

It hurt. And yet, it did not seem real.

For years she had imagined seeing Kili again, even if it had been in a dream- a happy, pleasant dream void of death and blood -and when she greeted him she would apologize.

She would say she was sorry, she was so, so sorry, and he would look at her and smile and say it was all right.

She would let herself cry. Maybe they would both cry, but they would not be tears of sadness.

They would sit together in silence and stare up at the stars. Perhaps there would be a fire-moon lighting the sky.

And eventually, they would part ways. As friends, no more, but good friends. The handshake she would share with him would be like the one she would have given a brother.

And then she would let him go.

Now she stared sightlessly at the wall, and she felt dirty. Soiled, somehow, and she wondered if she would ever feel clean again.

The balm, she realized abruptly. It had all started with the balm. Not everything, of course, but the hallucinations that seemed as real as life itself.

It had to be the balm. The thought brought her little comfort, though she welcomed an explanation of what was happening to her - or as close to one as she would get.

That _being_ , that illusion, had not been Kili. Kili was not cruel; he was not dark twisted smiles and sharp stabbing accusations.

She would not let her memories of him become poisoned. His friendship, his kindness, had been far too precious to let that happen.

She closed her eyes.

 _Thud._

 _Thud._

 _Thud._

 _You are real._

 _Feel your heartbeat._

 _You are alive._

 _Hold on._

 _Air._

 _Cold or hot._

 _Going in, going out._

 _It is real._

 _Pain, the harshest reality there is._

 _You hurt._

 _Wake up._

* * *

"Blast you," Gimli huffed, taking the steps as fast as he possibly could. "Bloody elves and their bloody brilliant minds that somehow _forget_ to mention something so _simple_."

Legolas glanced down at him, feigning irritation, for in truth he was more than a little fearful of the consequences of this small oversight. "It was not my intention," he snapped, "and I regret it sorely."

"She's going to kill us," the dwarf growled. "Have you seen how she glares at you? Never mind that - of course you have. I don't want her looking like that at me!"

Legolas glanced down at him, choosing to ignore that comment. "Come. These are the chambers she was supposed to have been given."

The dwarf came to a halt, heaving for breath. "I'll have to tell her that you were supposed to say something."

Legolas knocked rapidly on the wood, hearing it echo through the room beyond.

A moment of silence, broken only by the dwarf slamming the butt of his ax into the stone floor.

"Well?" Gimli sniped. "Do those keen elf ears of yours hear anything?"

Legolas ignored him and knocked again.

They were both quiet as they waited for some sort of response.

Gimli snarled something under his breath, apparently loosing patience, and shoved past Legolas, pounding ferociously at the door. Legolas winced slightly at the sudden burst of noise.

Abruptly, the door opened. Tauriel stood just beyond the threshhold, looking less than pleased.

"Yes?" she demanded.

Legolas opened his mouth to answer, but Gimli beat him to it.

"He has something to tell you," he said bluntly, and hurriedly stepped away.

Legolas closed his mouth with a gentle click and glared at the dwarf.

"I have come to explain," he said finally, "and perhaps to apologize."

She paused, and for some reason he got the feeling she was looking at something beyond his body. Her eyes were a muted green, though they stood out starkly in the white of her face.

She looked scared, he thought abruptly. Scared and wary.

Slowly, hesitantly, she stepped to the side and allowed them to enter. Legolas glanced briefly around and saw nothing but bare walls, a cot at one corner, and a small table littered with sharpening stones, half-constructed arrows, and multiple throwing knives. There was no sign of her old clothing, nor anything else that marked the living quarters as hers.

"What do you want?" she asked wearily, leaning back against the cold stone. No fire had been lit, though there was wood ready and waiting in the fireplace.

Legolas finished his perusal of the room and quickly answered before Gimli had a chance to interject yet another comment.

"The balm I gave you," he said, a hint of wary anticipation in his voice. "I unfortunately forgot to inform you of its sometimes confusing affects to your body."

Tauriel slumped slightly, shoulders hunched. "If you are here to tell me about the dangers of the hallucinations, there is no need."

He stiffened. _So that is why the room smells of death._ "I am sorry."

She looked him full in the face for the first time, the intensity of her gaze as it hit him full-force throwing him slightly off balance. "Yes," she said slowly, "you are."

He forced himself not to flinch. Caught as she was in between two worlds, as he thought of it, she was an unnerving sight.

Silence fell for a long moment, and once again he felt as if she was staring right through him.

"It is my turn, then," Tauriel said abruptly. "I, too, wish to apologize. I was not fully in the right to be angry with you for what I saw then as a deception by your hand. I am sorry."

Legolas looked at her blankly for a long moment, taken aback.

He could count on one hand the times she had apologized for anything, least of all to him.

"Thank you," he said slowly.

In the background, Gimli calmly lit his pipe, looking surprisingly comfortable with the situation unfurling before his eyes.

Legolas took a slow step forward. Tauriel did not move.

Peering at her more closely, he noticed that her eyes were somewhat glassy and though her skin was almost grey, there were two burning spots of color high on her cheekbones.

Both could be explained by the fever she surely had, or as more side affects of the balm.

But her sudden apology, the strange emptiness to her stare, could not.

The sudden switch between resentment, anger, and disappointment to vague acceptance was not, he thought, something she would do unless the circumstances were extremely different than the ones they were in currently.

"Tauriel."

She turned green eyes towards him once more, but they did not truly see him.

"Are you well?" he asked carefully.

That seemed to fully gain her attention, though her eyes were still not focused on his face. "Yes," she said with a knee-jerk quick reaction, "I am."

Her attempted deception was far from perfect. Even Gimli, who had known her for mere weeks, heard the off-key twang in her voice.

"You are lying," Legolas said evenly. "We all know it. Tell us the truth - we deserve that at least, as fellow members of the Fellowship."

"The Fellowship of the Ring is no more," she responded, staring off into space. "We all know that, too. You have no leverage over me in that context."

Legolas paused, searching for another reason, and came up short for an alarming amount of time. "As friends, then. Comrades-in-arms. Tell us what is wrong, Tauriel."

* * *

 _"Tell us what is wrong."_

She held herself perfectly still; did not allow herself to so much as twitch in reaction to Legolas's words. Even Gimli looked concerned, and it cut her to the quick to ignore the dwarf in such a way, but she had to do it.

From behind Legolas, Kili smirked.

"Come now," he said. "Answer them."

She refocused a small part of her attention on them. "I cannot tell you," she heard herself say. Impossibly, her voice was still holding steady.

" _Please_ ," Kili-not-Kili said, sounding bored and disgusted. "Even I can do better than that, and they can't even hear me."

She felt her eyelid quiver somewhat as she tried not to blink.

He was mad, she knew. Furious, even. She had made amends with Legolas as best she could in her current state, and they both knew it was just to spite him.

For a time after his first appearance, there had been blessed, blessed silence that left her alone with her thoughts, dark and dangerous though they were.

And then he had come back.

She was starting to hate him.

But she would not let him ruin the memories of Kili she had. She would not. For the first time in several moons, she was consciously thankful of her impossible stubbornness.

"Yes," Gimli said, breaking through her thoughts. Still she did not move. "You can tell us, lass. We will not judge you for it."

 _Oh_ , she thought snidely to herself in a moment of bitter self-indulgence, y _ou won't judge me for saying that an old friend is now back to haunt me through the window of the hallucinogenic in the balm, and that he wishes we were all dead? No, you won't. You'll say I have gone mad and leave me with nothing but my own thoughts for company, and then I truly will go mad._

"I am sorry," she said. "I cannot tell you."

How she was still calm on the outside was something of a miracle, she thought dispassionately.

Gimli growled something into his beard. She was not paying enough attention to hear what it was.

At first, she had thought that they were hallucinations as well. It was only when she had seen Kili-not-Kili stiffen with intense hatred - and perhaps a bit of worry - that she had been more certain they were in fact real and not just products of her mind.

Legolas was still staring at her.

If she had not been so intent on keeping herself from displaying any sort of reaction, she would have already taken several steps backwards and placed another barrier between them.

She did not like the reaction his gaze upon her got.

Kili-not-Kili hissed. His face was so contorted that she could barely even see her old friend within it. The idea helped somewhat.

"Do better," he snarled. "Convince them. You are fine. You have always been fine. Do you really want them to hate you even more?"

And there it was: though she tried her best to ignore his words, they still hurt. They dug deep, snatching at her skin and burrowing deep into her flesh.

He knew what would hurt the most and drew upon it, creating images and fears she had not even known she had had.

Oh yes, she hated him.

But she hated herself more, now.

He had seen to that.

Everything had gone bad again. The very air she breathed was scalding her lungs.

Steadily - how, she knew not - Tauriel took several steps forward.

A fresh gush of blood swept down her leg. She was thankful for her dark attire, for it would not show.

"Gandalf said something about riding out as soon as we could," she said. "When do we plan on setting out to Isengard?"

 _Too fast, too soon._

But she had nothing else she could say. Everything was too blurry to construct a convincing change of subject.

Legolas did not even consider taking the bait. "Don't bother," he said flatly. "We are not leaving until you tell us what is wrong."

Gimli nodded in agreement.

She tilted her head to the side, trying not to meet their gaze. The temptation was terrible. Kili-not-Kili glared a warning at her from the other side of the room.

Vaguely, she thought that she had not made peace with Legolas purely because of Kili-not-Kili. She had perhaps known she was in the wrong, deep down, but her stubbornness would have quelled any desire to apologize. Kili-not-Kili's saying that grasping for the shreds of their tentative friendship had done nothing but give her the final push, breaking through her own pride and turning the action into little more than an act of defiance on her part.

But she _had_ wanted to.

She realized that now.

She had thought of Audriel, and how she had parted ways with her sister in bad faith, and then how they had never made peace in life.

She did not want that to happen, especially with Legolas. Their fates had hung in the balance so many times in the past few moons she knew that she would have no time to say she was sorry if the tables began to turn for the worst.

She shook herself out of the greyish haze.

 _Thud._

 _Thud._

 _Thud._

 _You are real._

Tauriel hesitated, another lie on the tip of her tongue.

She swallowed, hard.

And she decided to tell the truth - at least, what of it she was able to say.

"The balm gave me some rather nasty hallucinations," she said. Her words sounded wrong to her own ears, and she prayed that it would be enough. She did not have the energy to keep this up for much longer. "I am still recovering."

Kili-not-Kili relaxed ever so slightly from his place in the shadows. She fought to keep her eyes from drifting shut. She was so _tired_.

She watched as relief and acceptance of her half-truth washed over Gimli's face. "Oh," he said.

Legolas did not look quite as pleased, but wisely ceased pushing for more information. "As you say. Mithrandir says that we will ride out within the hour. Do not bother to pack your weapons - there is a good chance they will be of use during the journey. Gimli?"

The dwarf rose, grumbling something about his pipe. He half-smiled at Tauriel as he shuffled from the room.

Legolas gave her one last lingering stare before exiting, and his eyes told her that he did not quite believe her story, but she cared little for it now.

Finally - _finally_ \- the door closed, and she was able to collapse to the floor, her heart beating slower than it should have been.

Kili-not-Kili smiled wickedly from the other side of the room.

"Good," he said. "Very good."

She raised her eyes to his face - his face that _was not real_ \- and felt her stomach turn.

"I hate you," she said bluntly. It was childish, yes, but it was all she was able to do or say in retaliation.

"I know," was all he said in return, and then he waved cheerfully and disappeared.

She lurched forward, her stomach clenching painfully, and spilled what little she had eaten in the past day up onto the floor.

The sour taste the bile left in her mouth was nothing in comparison to the stabs of pain in her chest. She wiped a hand across her mouth and noticed with some surprise that it came away stained red.

 _Thud._

 _Thud._

 _Thud._

 _You should have died._

 _Thud._

 _Thud._

 _Thud._

 _You_ deserved _to die._

 _Oh, yes. We both know that._

She rocked and forth on the cold stone, grasping at her hair, pulling it tight enough that it hurt, for pain was the only thing she knew was real.

She hated herself.

She had been so long without an incident, without a waking nightmare, that she had thought she had been fixed, that she had regained control of herself.

It had been a deluded idea.

 _Mother_ , she thought, scrubbing at her arms in an effort to get herself clean, because she was dirty inside. _She would understand. But I cannot trust her - remember, Tauriel, you cannot trust her. . ._

Memories.

 _Blood._

 _Sweat._

 _Salty, acidic, corrosive, spilling from between lips and across skin._

 _Your fault._

 _All you._

Vain, shallow worries as she stared at her reflection in the mirror.

Betrayal - _you_ \- towards those who had cared for her when no one else had. Spiteful words and dark desires, some of which she had followed through on.

Years of hatred, hatred that was nothing more than a lack of responsibility and acceptance of her own actions. She blamed others for what had befallen her.

 _Blood._

 _Everywhere._

Blood then and blood now.

Even now it was flooding from her body, leaving her, and she almost hoped this would end everything.

 _All you._

Twisted words and tangled webs of lies when she should have just told the truth.

She was everything she was not supposed to be. Her people, her kin, were not this. Everything bright and joyful that the elven races were known for she had taken and turned into smears of Shadow.

Bile rose up in her throat once more and she coughed up little more than acid.

A whisper of an idea in the back of her hazy mind - she needed help, though for what she did not know.

Everything was fading.

Why was it fading?

She could not remember trying to fall asleep.

She did not like to sleep. Her dreams haunted her through her waking hours.

Fingers, clenching and unclenching in turn.

She could still feel the rune stone beneath her fingertips. Soft and smooth; cool until it was warmed by her body heat. An anchor for so long that when she had given it up she could barely remember what it had been like to be without it.

A clench in her chest, a warning.

And then a voice - a voice she knew, a voice she grasped for and held onto as tight as she could.

 _Tauriel? Tauriel! No. Don't leave me. Don't go. It's not time. Not yet._

The pain was fading. For that at least she was grateful.

 _I'm sorry,_ she thought. _I'm sorry. It is time._

Frantic, frantic thoughts, jumbling together as their owner rushed towards _something_.

 _No, Tauriel. No! Don't fall asleep!_

She smiled dreamily, though she did not know why. _Thank you. I never wanted to go alone_.

Floating.

 _Down, down, down. . ._

Emptiness.

* * *

 **So, awesome news - the next chapter of TBE will be posted exactly one week from today! :) It's also quite long, so hopefully the fast update will allow us all to get to the fun stuff sooner. Lots of words in this chapter and the next, LOL.**

 **As ever, reviews are love. I read each and every single one and treasure them more than I would treasure precious jewels. Love y'all so much! You are the best readers I ever could have hoped for.**


	35. Reminescence

**As promised, the next chapter. It's a bit rougher than I would like, but I ended up having more work than I expected and, well, you get the picture.**  
 **On to the reviews! Remember that if you use an account to review, I'll be able to respond to it much easier. I love you anonymous/guest reviewers too, though; I just wish I was able to answer questions and such more in depth. :)**

 **Guest, I hadn't really planned on Kili-not-Kili being so harsh either. I actually have a different version with a different ending, but this one just clicked better for me.**  
 **willowtree, thank you - I will do my best. This chapter should explain who that was.**  
 **shenanigans, wait and see. ;)  
xXx3LegTaur4Evr, Guest, thank y'all!  
Lynn68, I love Gimli too! I have to resist straying from his movie persona completely at times, haha! I love to write his snipey comments and interactions with Legolas, especially. Legolas, unfortunately, will not get to be in the spotlight again until next chapter. We do get some Aragorn, though.**

 **Hope you guys enjoy!**

* * *

"Wake up, _amin tinu_. Wake up."

A sudden spasming of her lungs, a rush of pain, and slowly she forced her eyes to open.

Everything hurt again.

"Here," Audriel murmured, and Tauriel felt something cool and wet slide down her throat. It was tasteless, and soothed the terrible rawness.

The light, meager though it was, hurt her eyes. She felt impossibly weak.

Slowly, her memories of the past few days came seeping back into her mind. With them came a burning sensation all over her body and a gripping fear. Impossibly, she paled, eyes roving the room around her for any sign of Kili-not-Kili.

There was nothing, thankfully, for she was not sure she could hold up underneath another barrage of razor-sharp insults, even if they might be nothing but the truth.

"Mother," she croaked, blinking against the stabs of pain shooting through her skull.

Audriel shushed her, her face a vague smear of worried green eyes and tightly compressed lips.

"You must remain silent," she murmured. "You came within a hairsbreadth of death, Tauriel. You are still suffering from extreme lack of blood and severe shock."

Tauriel took a moment to process that, her mind whirling.

"How long has it been?" she finally rasped.

Audriel placed a hand upon her daughter's brow, frowning. "No more than a few hours. Your wounds had begun to fester. I have cleaned them and healed you as best I can."

"I have to go," she whispered. "I have to ride to Isengard." Straining, she tried to lift herself up and failed miserably, collapsing backwards once more.

" _No_!"

The word burst from Audriel sharply; she looked almost taken aback at the force of it as soon as it had left her mouth.

"No," she said again, calming herself. "You are far too weak. The others know not of your condition, though I have told them that you have other business here and cannot leave at least for another sunrise."

Tauriel looked up at her mother and was surprised to notice that her vision had gone double - there were two worried faces staring down at her.

She blinked, hard, striving to clear some of the blurriness. Still nothing changed, and she shook herself, glancing around the rest of the area.

Piled on the small, chipped table, there were multiple rolls of bandages, herbs, and other items she assumed Audriel had brought. The rest of the space was taken up by a wide range of weapons.

The rest of the room was still empty. A fire was crackling in the fire place - Audriel must have grown ill at ease with the coolness of the air - and a small, short stool was placed at her bedside, if it could be called that, for the "bed" was little more than two mats with a handful of straw tossed in between and then stitched together.

But nothing else seemed to be replicated.

She blinked again, focusing more directly on the twin faces.

Minute differences between the two began to jump out at her.

A smaller, straighter nose on one side; slightly more upward tilting eyes; sharper cheekbones; a smaller chin.

And then one of them turned to the side, searching for something, while the other remained still.

Tauriel choked on air and forced herself not to begin spewing questions.

The other elf winced, lifting a finger to their lips in a signal to remain silent.

Tauriel swallowed and stared upwards as best she could, focusing instead on the aching in her bones and the burning sensation that seemed to have settled into her blood.

She hated the vulnerability of lying flat on her back, in bed, with so little energy she could not even sit up. If she was attacked in any way, she would be entirely incapable of defending herself, and in her current circumstances that was not - would never be - a good situation to be in.

Audriel opened a bottle of some sort, and a pungent, piney-scented breeze wafted over them. She turned back towards Tauriel, murmuring something under her breath, and spilled the liquid onto a cloth before shoving it underneath her daughter's nose with not so much as "if you please".

Tauriel inhaled as deeply as she possibly could. The aroma, unlike the odor of the balm before, did not grate on her senses - indeed, she liked the smell; it reminded her of the Greenwood.

"Here," Audriel said. "This will soothe your headache and dull the after-affects of the mix you were given previously." She swore, violently and abruptly, and Tauriel flinched. "The nerve of them!"

Tauriel frowned, confused, and to one side of Audriel her mirror-image smiled as if indulging a small child. "What do you mean?"

Audriel pursed her lips for a long moment. "Normal elven healing medicines and balms rarely work on those of our bloodline. For some reason that is not yet known, it seems to curdle our very blood rather than doing its job. The particular balm you were given is a solution I am well acquainted with - I once attempted to use it upon my wounds and suffered from the side affects for nearly a month afterwards. I learnt my lesson well and managed to find out what would counter the affects and heal my body in much the same way."

"It was not their fault- they did not know. What happened to me?" Tauriel whispered, almost dreading the answer, for whatever could not be included in the list of side-affects was a condition purely of her own making.

Audriel hesitated; to one side the other elven lady rolled her eyes in what seemed to be mild annoyance. "You suffered from severe hallucinations -also known as waking dreams - massive loss of blood, indeed, almost enough to be fatal; a minor poison causing havoc in your system; a sudden rise of temperature; and last but not least the balm that only served to increase the strain upon your body."

Tauriel sagged backwards, torn between relief and disappointment - the hallucinations had surely been nothing but a product of her own fever-wracked mind, but how was she supposed to explain Audriel's double currently smiling down at her?

And her wounds, she knew, would take much longer than usual to heal. Instead of the sharp, clean injuries and subsequent scabbing, the marks were still leaking fluids and were unpleasantly warm.

Abruptly, she wanted to be alone, away from her mother's roving eyes, for though it seemed she was now more than willing to play at being a healer, all it served to do was bring back memories of when she had not in fact been there. Tauriel had long been full-grown, and loathed the idea of being in Audriel's debt, especially in the current context.

"Leave me," she said roughly. "Please."

Audriel quivered oddly, seemingly torn between two choices, and then rose. "As you wish. Do not attempt to rise. I will be listening."

Tauriel barely had enough time to wonder what she meant by that before her mother had swept from the room, leaving behind little more than a unique, tangy scent of a woodland at the peak of health.

Tauriel was silent for a long moment and the turned her head to the side, noticing with some irritation that her hair was starting to knot badly and likely needed a good trimming.

"Who are you?" she asked of the elven lady who was a near perfect copy of her own mother.

She smiled, and where Audriel's face, when twisted into that particular expression, always had a dark undertone, this elf's face was nothing less that impossibly, dazzlingly beautiful.

Her face was like those bards sang about all across the lands, and for a moment Tauriel was blinded by the absolute perfection of it and the sharp pang of recognition.

"Aruelle," she said. "Your mother's sister by blood, though for many moons you called me _nana_."

Tauriel closed her eyes, playing back across the few memories she had of her childhood. "You are dead." Silently, she prayed that this ghost from her past would be kinder, for she could not cope with yet another dear one turning and stabbing her in the back. Looking back towards her mother's sister, she waited for an answer.

"Yes, I am. I have been for centuries now." Aruelle folded her hands calmly, green eyes steady.

"You are another illusion, a product of the fever and balm."

"Indeed, in many ways I am. And yet in others I am nothing more than a piece of you, just as the dwarf was, though I would like to think your mind's embodiment of my person is entirely different." She paused, then added, "I believe I can safely say that the dwarf will bother you no more."

Tauriel was silent for a long moment, at first with overwhelming relief, and then she was no longer paying attention to who Aruelle at that particular time, instead focusing on their facial features.

For so long, she had been told that she looked like her mother. But now, looking at her mother's sister, even if it was not in person, she found herself thinking that she looked more like Aruelle - and oddly enough she had no qualms about referring to the elleth as such, melding her with what she remembered of her past; whereas with Kili's embodiment she had done as much as she could to separate the two.

Even stranger was that if she did, in fact, look more like Aruelle, she must have at least a bit of that undefinable spark, that strange magic that surely had turned eyes.

Tauriel had never thought much about her appearance - she knew she had a symmetrical face that was pleasing enough to the eye and would never have considered herself unattractive, but at the same time had never really cared.

"I look like you," she eventually blurted awkwardly.

A ripple of laughter. Aruelle's face was gentle, a mirror image of Audriel's and yet not. "When you were younger, your brothers - your cousins, I suppose - always used to say that you looked more like me than anyone else in the family. They never knew that you were not in fact my daughter, and as far as I was concerned you were."

A flash of memories, hot and bright and painful.

"You gave up your own life for me," Tauriel whispered, brow furrowed. "Why? You could have run, you could have saved your own blood kin."

Aruelle smiled sweetly, though there was a hint of sorrow behind it. "I regret nothing. I would do it all again - a hundred times over, without a second thought. My children were all that ever mattered. You were - are - my blood, Tauriel. Nothing could ever change that."

Tauriel turned her face away, fighting the prickling of tears in her eyes. She found herself wishing desperately that Aruelle was indeed still alive. "I remember," she rasped. "You gave me the daggers I carry with me even now, and you told me to run. I was scared, but you said everything was going to be okay. Smoke and fire, and though I tried to forget, you screamed once. I dreamed it over and over again for years."

"Don't cry," Aruelle said gently, and Tauriel could have sworn that she reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair away from her cheek. "You gave me something I had never dared to think I might eventually have. When Audriel held you out to me, I knew that you were meant to find a place in my - our - home. You were the daughter I had wanted for so long, and I loved you dearly."

Tauriel blinked rapidly, giving in and letting a diamond-droplet slide down her cheek and sink into the redness of her hair. "Did it hurt?" she asked abruptly.

A pause, and then Aruelle spoke once more. "No, I cannot remember it hurting. But it has been so long... And I wanted to go, I think. It was my time. It did ache at first - more than you could possibly imagine - but eventually it faded into an emptiness."

"I am glad, then. I would not have wanted it to hurt, with you."

Aruelle seemed to choke up then, and they sat in silence for a time. Vaguely Tauriel hoped she was not crying - real or not, she had awoken something that could not be easily laid to rest: a craving for affection, respect, from a matriarchal figure she had loved, and though she knew the desire was ridiculously childish she found she did not care.

Aruelle sighed. "You are so strong," she murmured, and though she tried to stop herself Tauriel tensed - she had heard the same thing over and over again for years, and it had turned into little more than another expectation she felt she would never meet.

"No," she said hoarsely. "I am strong no longer."

"Strength means a different thing to many," Aruelle said softly. "You are strong because you have never given up hope. I ask nothing from you when I say that - at least, beyond a request that you never force yourself to change for the sake of others." She hesitated, glancing backwards for a moment. "My sister - Tauriel, she does truly care for you. She has been lost for so long now. Please, for both our sakes - give her a chance. She deserves that at least." She stiffened abruptly, face shimmering oddly. "I must to go, Tauriel. I have been too long outside the safety of your memories already. Remember, dearest of my heart - I will always be with you."

She stood, lifting fingertips to her lips and then brushing Tauriel's forehead with an invisible touch.

Tauriel closed her eyes, feeling foolishly like a child once more. "Thank you," she whispered. "For everything."

When she opened them again, Aruelle was gone.

* * *

Thranduil's eyes saw nothing but darkness. He frowned as he gathered himself, fingertips moving over the lines he knew had started to become more noticeable at the corners of his eyes.

His face bore the signs of many months - nay, years - of worry and pain. Ageless though he was, his skin had starting to crease and fold more than it should have. And, of course, one side of his face was forever ruined, torn asunder by dragon-fire.

Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the shadows, and as he glanced around the room - a memory of an age that had long ago slipped through his fingers like so much sand - he wondered why he had even come there in the first place. It served no purpose whatsoever.

He had always prided himself on his strength of will; his resoluteness that once he made a decision, he would follow through on it unless the circumstances had changed wildly, had never wavered.

Why then, he wondered, was he here, of all places?

Sighing somewhat, he straightened to his full height and brushed calloused fingertips over old, old wood that had been finely carved many centuries ago and had once been polished so fine he could have seen his reflection staring back at him.

It was covered in dust, now, had been for many a year. He had closed off this part of his chambers as soon as it became heartbreakingly clear there would never be a use for them again.

He could still hear echoes of laughter in his ears - two voices, most often, but occasionally there would be another voice, deeper than the rest.

Rarely had there been tears of any kind other than joy.

The Elvenking moved towards the farthest corner of the room, his steps steady until he was nearly upon what he sought.

Then - and only then - did he falter.

He had avoided this place for a reason.

Thranduil reached out into the darkness, knowing exactly where it was.

 _There_.

Hard, slick wood.

Fingers trembling - and he cursed himself for his weakness - he drew the cradle towards him.

Thranduil exhaled, caring little for the cloud of dust he had surely stirred up.

His hands were running over the framework, feeling the smoothness of the perfectly sanded rails, the product of many a hour of effort on the woodworkers's part.

He could still remember staring down into it and seeing Legolas for the first time.

His wife had looked at him with eyes of molten gold - he remembered they had been such a unique shade of amber - and smiled.

 _He's beautiful, isn't he?_

 _Yes._

Her face had still been sweat-streaked, her lips cracked and dry, but he had never loved her more.

And what now seemed like mere days later, he had once again been kneeling by the finely-wrought cradle, his nose being held rather tightly by his son in a grip he wished he could say was not even vaguely uncomfortable, but Legolas had somehow managed to twist one of his small fingers up his father's right nostril and he was fighting the urge to sneeze.

 _Ada?_

 _Aye._

His wife had died with another babe in her stomach, too young to save.

He had never gotten a chance to say goodbye.

But such was the way of life and passing of time - he knew that now - and he would see her again. Coming back here, to the nursery, was dangerous. He could not afford to lose ahold of himself now.

Taking several rapid steps backwards, Thranduil forced himself to separate past from present. His self-control had never been less than strong.

He took one last look around, savoring the honey-like sweetness of the memories and promising himself he would not come here again.

His pace faster than it had been as he entered, he left.

* * *

Eowyn's hands were twisting violently behind her back, but her face was - somehow - calm.

"My lady," she said, and the elf's hair was scarlet-red, clashing bitterly with the furious burning of her green eyes, though at any other time the two colors would have done well together.

Audriel looked rather as if she was swallowing an acidic comment, and forced a smile through what must have been tightly clenched teeth. "Aye?"

"If I may ask - and I apologize for disturbing what must surely be a busy time for you all - where is Tauriel?"

Audriel's shoulders went ramrod straight, giving her an extra few inches of height. She was still shorter than Eowyn, and seemed to be fighting the urge to lash out at something. Eowyn took an unconscious half-step backwards as she found herself pinned down by Audriel's glare.

"Forgive me," she said hurriedly. "I assumed you would know - assumed you were blood kin." She ducked her head, forcing an apologetic look over her slightly panicked expression, and turned to go.

"Wait."

It was a short, clipped response, but it was better than nothing.

Eowyn spun. "Yes?" she whispered, half-fearing the answer she would receive.

"She was injured badly, as you know." The elf was fairly pacing now, her half-steps short and cleanly executed. "She near bled out before I was able to find her, and is still fighting through a fever and mild hallucinations. I cannot spend more time with her. If you are capable of remaining mostly quiet and do not bother her with undue questions, I will direct you to her quarters." She paused. "Girl. What is your name?"

"Eowyn," she choked out.

"Ah. The king's niece, then." Audriel frowned for a moment, scanning Eowyn from head to toe, then began loping smoothly away.

Eowyn stood for a moment, confused, and then began to hurry after her. "Wait!"

Positioned as she was, she was able to watch as the elf seemed to glide over the ground, stepping so quickly and easily that for a time Eowyn questioned if she was even touching the stone beneath their feet.

After three sets of stairs and several long corridors, Eowyn began to wonder where they were going.

And then finally, Audriel came to an abrupt, yet seamlessly executed, halt.

"Here." The elf reached out, quickly unbarring the door and opening it before fairly shoving Eowyn inside.

Tauriel half-rose from the bed, muscles straining impressively in her fore-arms, and for the first time Eowyn fully appreciated how strong she - and her mother - would have to be in order to pull their bow-strings to full-draw.

And then Tauriel's utter exhaustion became apparent, as she collapsed backwards in a movement that did not look controlled in the least.

Eowyn stepped forward, eyes wide. She had never really thought about elves and illness in the same sentence, but realized now that they were not in fact as untouchable as she had previously thought.

"Eowyn," Tauriel said, and the word fell from her cracked lips with more than a little relief. "You are well, then. I feared for a time the king had decided to discipline you more harshly than just a lecture."

She half-flinched. "How do you know of that?" Catching herself, she back-tracked. "I mean, thank you. I hope you are as well as to be expected."

Tauriel stared up at the ceiling with glassy eyes.

 _The fever,_ Eowyn thought. She had seen it often enough in men and brought back from battle, their bodies wracked by blood-poisoning.

"Tauriel," she murmured, half-aware of Audriel leaving the room with little more than a ghostly whisper of arrow-fletchings brushing up against stone.

Tauriel turned her head, meeting Eowyn's gaze so unexpectedly that Eowyn jumped a little, nearly sending the stool she had just seated herself upon tumbling backwards.

Green, _green_ eyes. First evergreen rimmed, then clear emerald green and black pupils that were fully blown out.

She sucked in a breath and sat backwards.

"He is upset with you," Tauriel breathed, still staring at Eowyn. "He fears for your safety. He still loves you. In time, he may forget and forgive. But if he does not . . . take care, for you will only have so much time with him and there will be no chance to say goodbye."

Eowyn gaped. Tauriel sagged backwards again, closing her eyes. The girl could practically feel the heat rising up from her skin.

"I - I will go, then," she whispered, rising, albeit hesitantly.

"No."

There was unexpected vehemency in Tauriel's voice, and Eowyn got the impression that she was fighting to stay calm, though she did not understand why, and knew better than to assume anything. She wondered silently, biting her tongue until a more convenient time.

"Audriel does not wish for me to remain alone," Tauriel said bitterly, but somehow her words rang false. "She says that if my mind falls into hallucinations once more I could do myself serious harm."

Eowyn nodded vaguely and sat back down. "If I may," she muttered, "is - _Audriel_ \- related to you?"

Tauriel glanced sharply at her. "Aye."

"How so, then?" She tread carefully, taking care to imbue her questions with the appropriate hesitance.

"She is my blood mother," Tauriel finally said, and turned her face away.

* * *

Audriel slipped through the corridors, taking care to keep to the shadows. They had been her home for many a year, and she had no intention to change their _agreement_ , as she liked to think of it.

Sliding a hand across the slick stone walls, she leaned closed, her ear pressed up against the cold surface.

Footsteps echoed back towards her, heavier than the Ranger's were. He was not one to stomp, instead moving nearly as silently as she herself did. She was nearly positive that the owner of these particular footsteps was male, and either way would prefer not to reveal herself to more people than necessary.

She breathed evenly, controlling the movements of her body right down to the steady pulse of her heartbeat.

Audriel waited until the other man had passed out of range, then slid forward and in front of the door she knew Aragorn was currently behind.

A pause as she listened for anyone else, and then she opened the door and slid inside.

Aragorn started somewhat, his dark eyes flaring momentarily as, she knew, he readied himself for a fight, and then dimming.

"Audriel," he said warily. His voice was rougher than normal, and based on his state of dress she thought that he had likely not seen a time period of rest longer than a few hours in days, perhaps weeks. Her silent rating of his person went up another notch or two.

"Tell me, Ranger, what do you know of my daughter?" She spoke without preamble, not caring to waste time bandying words.

He looked at her silently for a long moment. "I know her as well as any of us here do, save for Mithrandir and perhaps Legolas," he answered calmly. "And beyond that - and perhaps more importantly - I trust her."

"Good."

He lifted an eyebrow; it was clear that was not the response he had been expecting. "Indeed?"

"Yes," Audriel said flatly, eyes heavy-lidded as she started to slowly circle him - a dance she had repeated so many times before it now came second-nature. "It is indeed good that you trust her, for now I ask of you this: she has been gravely compromised, and I cannot and will not inform the wizard, elfling, or dwarf of her condition, for I believe they are the cause of it in the first place, be it unintentional or no." She paused, eyes gleaming. "Do you follow?"

Aragorn nodded slowly, looking as if he was entirely at ease, but his stance told a different story. He had bent his knees ever so slightly, preparing as much as he could for a possible fight.

She hummed low in her throat, listening with satisfaction as the sound echoed somewhat throughout the room. "Good," she purred. "Now then. I have a collection of herbs that are supposed to ease her aliments. I cannot give them to her myself on a regular basis- the others will suspect I have ulterior motives - and she never completed her training as a healer, therefore not possessing the knowledge or skill to prepare them herself."

"You don't?" he demanded, blunter than she had thought him to be - but then, he was still mortal, albeit longer-lived than most men, and could never hope to equal or even rival an elf in conversation.

She cocked her head. "It matters not. Tauriel requires assistance, and I cannot give it to her. If you will not, then I will be forced to find a way to bring the fair-haired chit along with us." She made no attempt to hide her dislike of Eowyn. "Your answer, Ranger?"

There was silence for a long moment.

She could tell he was trying to think of a way to refuse. A smile played along her lips; she knew his mannerisms well enough to recognize that the chances of him stepping back were slim.

Wordlessly, he held out a hand.

"Good," she said softly, halting in her movements long enough to remove a package of dried herbs from her belt and place it in his palm. "You will know what these are. And fair warning - she will fight. Do not let her win; if she does not begin to recover quickly it will likely be the end of her."

He nodded wordlessly, curling his fingers up over the bag and starting to move towards the door. She felt no remorse at pushing him even further along the path of exhaustion; by her reasoning, if he had not given out already he most likely would continue to stand strong.

"Wait," she called, right before he exited the room.

He turned back towards her with a question on his face, but did not bother to find words.

"Take care of her, Aragorn," Audriel said harshly. "She is my daughter, and if there is one thing I have learnt in all these years it is that blood is worth everything. Harm her, unintentionally or not, and I will hurt you tenfold over. Remember," she hissed, "I am _always_ watching."

* * *

Aragorn knocked on the door with more than a little trepidation, wondering how Tauriel was supposed to open it if she was indeed as weak as her mother said.

Audriel had once again shoved her venomous personality to the front of her person, but he could not help wondering if it was nothing but a front.

A creaking of the hinges, and the door opened, revealing a very startled Eowyn staring back at him.

"Aragorn - my lord - what are you doing here?" she stuttered, and for some reason she looked badly unnerved, her eyes wide and face pale. Nevertheless, she stood aside so he could enter.

Behind her, lying flat on her back, was Tauriel, red hair piled in a mess of braids, eyes wide open and staring unblinkingly at the ceiling.

Aragorn stared for a moment, unused to seeing her in such a vulnerable position, then turned to Eowyn. "Her mother bade me give her these," he said quietly, showing her the bag of fragrant herbs.

Eowyn glanced at it for a mere second, nodded, and disappeared out the door with not so much as a goodbye.

He stood in mild confusion for a heartbeat or two, thinking that it was unlike the girl to turn and flee so quickly.

Striding over to Tauriel, he noted that her hands were clenched harshly around the wooden frame of the cot - he would not have called it a bed - and her clothing was drenched in sweat.

Abruptly, she arched upwards, her face contorting as she turned it towards him.

"Your heart is tearing itself in two," she rasped, and the eeriness of her voice gave him perhaps a little more insight into Eowyn's quick exit than he wished.

"Hush," Aragorn murmured. He heard something pop and winced.

Working quickly, he took a pinch of the finely ground powder - this particular plant he knew well; when dried, it was excellent for relieving headaches, fevers, inflammation, and stomach cramps. He scanned Tauriel's body once again, his gaze purely clinical, and felt her pulse.

At first it was dangerously slow, and then jumped abruptly, making him frown.

He breathed out, and focused his attention on the bag of various herbs. The smell was rich and pungent, nearly enough to make him sneeze.

"You cannot win all your battles," Tauriel said, so suddenly that he flinched

"What do you mean?" he asked, purely to try and keep her attention focused away from his hands as they slowly peeled the bandages away from what looked to be the worst of her injuries. He preserved her modesty as best he could, but always in the back of his mind there was a warning that if she became fully lucid, there was a good chance she would gut him before he had a chance to explain.

Tauriel was trembling, her skin hot against his hands, and her eyes were rolling. "The evening star has begun to fall," she cried, bucking upwards, and he pulled away, not knowing what to do. "She will fall and she will shatter . . ."

Chills raced across Aragorn's skin, and he pushed her words to the back of his mind as he packed the wound with the mix of herbs that had been prepared and then quickly wrapped a fresh bandage around it as best he could.

His hands were shaking, and he felt rather like a fool.

Her words meant nothing. She was delirious, the fever driving her half-mad.

Working as fast as he could, he tipped a vile of pain relief into her mouth, taking care to make sure she did not choke, and stepped back.

"Tauriel," he said, his voice rising louder than it had before. She jerked at the sound, but did not wake.

"Falling," she slurred, her words echoing eerily throughout the room. "We will all fall eventually."

For the first time, he found himself unnerved by the way she seemingly saw straight through them all. Even worse, the look on her face was uncomfortably similar to the one her mother so often wore.

"Tauriel!" Aragorn was becoming sorely worried now. If there was one thing he knew well, it was that she normally would wake at the faintest whisper.

She turned her head to meet his eyes in one of the most disturbing displays of acknowledgment he had seen yet.

"Be careful," she whispered. "You are running out of luck."

He moved forwards, his movements still measured, and slapped at her wrist. "Wake up, Tauriel. You are safe, and you need to wake up."

"I am awake," she said, and incredibly she was starting to sit up. Her eyes were still murky.

"No, you aren't," he snapped , and stared shaking her as rough as he dared. It felt so very deeply wrong and he hated it - but at the same time he knew it was likely the only way to get her fully conscious. Her instinct to either fight or run would hopefully shake her mind awake.

A gasp, the sudden intake of breath seeming almost painful, and Tauriel blinked, her hands suddenly jerking towards his face. She was apparently too weak to follow through on the motion completely.

"Tauriel," he said in some surprise as she stared at him in confusion.

"Why are you here?" she rasped, her shoulders slumping forwards.

"You are ill," Aragorn said, and made as if to push her backwards onto the cot once more.

"No," Tauriel said flatly, and grasped his wrist in an iron-strong grip. "Listen to me, Aragorn - we have to ride out. Now. You have cared for me as best you can; there is nothing else you can do. Help me up, help me mount a horse, and I will go along with the rest of you. _I cannot stay here any longer._ The ghosts in these walls are not kind."

He stared at her, torn.

He knew well that she would likely eventually do whatever she wanted either way. He would be wise to try and make sure she did not faint on the way to the stables, he at the same time, Audriel would be sorely put out, and he did not relish being subject to her anger, though she did not intimidate him.

"Please," she hissed, fingers clenching tight enough that she would surely leave a bruise.

"Very well," he finally said, and she sagged in relief, releasing his wrist and closing her eyes. There were great, bruise-like shadows underneath them.

"Thank you," Tauriel breathed.

He shook his hand, sighing slightly as the blood went rushing back into his fingers. "Don't thank me quite yet."

She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze with deep weariness. "And yet I shall, for another day within this fortress will surely send me spiraling into madness." She lifted a shaking hand, brushing it over the slick stone.

He asked why without fully thinking it through.

Tauriel shivered, fingers tracing the opposite wrist. " _They_ are here," she answered hoarsely. "All of them. Every person I have ever harmed, intentionally or no, is waiting for me when I close my eyes, and some bleed through into the light. I can hear them screaming even now."

He stared at her for a second as her words sunk in, and then wordlessly held out a hand to help her rise. He was not entirely sure he could even pretend to understand, but nevertheless he would try to at least offer some comfort. "I am sorry."

"You shouldn't be," she said harshly. "You had nothing to do with any of it."

He considered that, and nodded. "Aye. And yet I am," he said, mirroring her words from just minutes earlier.

She blinked, owl-like, and dipped her head. "Very well."

Neither one made an effort to speak again.

* * *

 ***sighs* Wow, that was a lot of words - again, LOL. Next chapter we should be getting back to more of the action. :) Anyone catch that hint in the last bit, hmm?**

 **It might be a while before the next update. I might end up rewriting the next chapter, so don't want to publish it once and then end up re publishing a completely different version.**

 **Also, I have some news for y'all - I actually have started writing another fic. It is set in the time period before Tauriel was recruited by Gandalf, and after SIB. That being said, it covers some very dark subjects and is *not* a happy story, so I am a bit hesitant to just go ahead and post it. Are y'all interested? It has very short chapters (none over 100 words so far) but updates should be fast.**

 **Again, thank you all so, so much.**


	36. Follow Me Down

**Yay - new chapter! Unfortunately we don't move along quite as fast as I'd like here, but we're entering into dangerous territory! Can't wait to get some more of Saruman in here - mwahahahaha!**

 **Angel4Ever, Warriorheart5, SweetsumrRain, starlitstarbrit, thank you so much for your super sweet words! :)**  
 **neebieone, thanks! I thought she deserved that little tidbit of her younger years after Kili-not-Kili's appearance. I love Aragorn too! We'll be seeing more of him in this chapter, too! And maybe eventually we'll see Legolas getting the scolding he - kind of - deserves.**  
 **neverandalways (your pen-name equals 3 on my part BTW), wait and see! You'll have another lovely encounter with Audriel below!**  
 **Guest, I cannot wait to share that scene with y'all! It's in the next two or three chapters - I promise. ;))**

 **Hope y'all enjoy! Again, this chapter is rougher and probably needs a good run-down, but I think you guys have waited long enough! I am sorry that I am no longer able to deliver a better quality of writing within the time period I like to set myself - hoping that one of these days that will change!**

* * *

Tauriel held her head high, ignoring the rhythmic tugging of the stitches as they did their best to hold her flesh together.

She ached all over, though slowly but surely the pain was fleeing her body.

Aragorn hovered at one side, a hand ready at her waist should her legs give out and send her toppling to the floor.

Though she trusted him, indeed, would have considered him a good friend, she hated her inability to care for herself.

Years of mostly self-imposed solitude after her banishment had forced her to either fight her way back to her feet when ill or injured, or suffer the often deadly consequences.

She flinched as his calloused fingers brushed her torso.

Friend or not, she did not like the feel of anyone else's hands upon her body.

She still had memories of her past that tainted the reality.

"Your mother is quite likely to challenge me to a sparring match when she learns of this," Aragorn said out of the side of his mouth.

The corners of Tauriel's mouth tilted upwards gently, and even that slight movement was mostly forced. "I doubt it," she bit out, past her ridiculously swollen throat. "She would not dare risk her chances with the rest of what was once the Fellowship."

"You make a fair point."

They turned a corner and began the trek down a flight of stairs.

Tauriel made the mistake of placing her weight solely on one leg and promptly felt it give in, folding awkwardly and sending her stumbling dangerously.

Aragorn caught at her arm just in time, hauling her back and setting her on her feet once more.

"Thank you," she half-whispered, refusing to meet his gaze.

The Ranger seemed to search for words - she knew that he was trying to ease her discomfort - but eventually settled for silence.

She cursed her body and mind both, taking the steps with painful slowness that surely was sending him half-mad.

She was not one to take anything slowly, and in the back of her mind there was a whisper that he did not mind and she should not either.

She gritted her teeth and pushed those thoughts back, locking them securely away.

With time, Tauriel became more aware of Aragorn's quiet, solid confidence. Often silent, he was always there, ready to catch you if you fell, but she knew full-well he was a leader and warrior in his own right.

Oddly, he reminded her a bit of Legolas, if she stretched the comparison.

She shook herself, scolding her traitorous consciousness, and settled back into the slightly awkward silence.

"Audriel truly does care for you," Aragorn said abruptly.

Tauriel flinched, hard, and immediately felt like a fool. She was not a child, scared of the dark and running from the whispers of the wind, she thought furiously.

"Indeed."

It was a statement rather than a question, yet invited further illumination on his part.

They turned another corner, and the stench of death washed over them both. Piles of bodies drew her attention, eyes staring sightlessly. She remembered Haldir's face as the warmth left his body and his life blood slowly drained away.

Bile rose in the back of her throat.

"Have you seen her interact with others?" Aragorn asked.

"Aye."

"Then you will know that her treatment of them is a far cry from her attitude when she is with you."

"And yet she abandoned me when I was but a babe and did not come back until it was far too late to take her place as my mother."

Aragorn met her gaze steadily. "She knows that she made mistakes."

Tauriel pursed her lips, biting the inside of her cheeks until her teeth began to puncture the skin. She still did not know what to think.

Many clearly despised her mother. They made no effort to hide it, either.

Others were impartial.

She suspected they were just better at hiding their emotions.

And some - some cared little for Audriel, yet told her that she should give her mother a second chance.

"I will not risk letting her in and then have her leave behind once more," Tauriel said flatly.

The stables loomed before them, and she breathed a silent sigh of relief. _Almost there. Hold on..._

"It is a risk you will have to take. You will never know if you do not take the chance that she does indeed love you and wishes to rekindle what she once smothered."

Tauriel snorted through her nose, regretting the action as she promptly began coughing painfully.

Aragorn shot her a concerned look, but relented as she fairly pushed him away from her and stumbled into the stables.

The smell of horse sweat and sweet, clean hay washed over her like a balm, wiping away much of the sickly stench of the death that had greeted her outside.

She inhaled as deeply as she could and swayed dangerously, black spots dancing before her eyes.

She cursed again.

To be so weak - it had been so long since she was unable to care for herself completely.

She was not fond of the sensation.

"Aragorn," she murmured, and in a flash he was at her side, a hand underneath her elbow as he supported much more of her weight than she would have liked.

"Tauriel," he said in a low voice, "you are still weak. I do not wish you to risk your life purely so we can ride out sooner."

She turned to meet his gaze with a surprising amount of steel, all things considered. "We - I - must ride out - today," she repeated, but offered no further explanation.

He grunted low his his throat, looking less that pleased.

She ignored him as best she could, turning her attention back towards the horses.

"Brego," she said. "Where is Brego?"

Aragorn called out to the stable-lads, and within moments a boy was scrambling from the loft, his face pale, the layer of grime streaked with tear tracks.

Tauriel felt a dull pang as she realized he was likely mourning the death of friend or family. And yet, he was still here, carrying out his appointed task without hesitation or, seemingly, complaint.

And then she found herself wondering if he was here purely because there was nowhere else to go.

She gritted her teeth and stared the slightly morbid facts in the face, telling herself that she would not shrink from the truth.

As Aragorn asked the boy questions, his voice gentle, she let her consciousness stray.

Inevitably, it found its way back to Kili-not-Kili, Aruelle - _my mother?_ she wondered - and skirted around the reality of the state of her own mind and body.

A gentle tug at her forearm snapped her from her thoughts. Aragorn pulled her towards a stall towards the back, where no sunlight filtered through and the corners were filled with cobwebs. She felt irritation at the conditions of the building begin to mount, but shook herself. They were almost entirely unwarranted.

"He will be scarred for life," Tauriel said in elvish to Aragorn. "At least he was not quite old enough to join the battle himself."

He glanced at her, the corners of his mouth tightening. "No child should have to suffer through what he has. His entirely family is now dead."

Tauriel paled. "What?"

"His grandmother died in the battle. Under your command, I believe."

She hunched her shoulders, guilt stabbing at her. "Birdget," she whispered raggedly. "His grandmother's name was Birdget. And you are not wrong when you say it is my fault."

He frowned; he had not said that, but let it go. Arguing with her would do little good and would only serve to raise her ire and tire her more.

Tauriel slid through a gap in the slatting of the wood and into the stall. She could feel Aragorn's eyes on her - this was the horse that had saved him, after all - but cared not.

She murmured random words into his ears, watching as they flicked back and forth. She leaned back against the solidness of his side, listening to the steady whoosh of his lungs and feeling the velvety warmth of his coat.

"If you will, help me mount up," she finally said to Aragorn, the words falling bitterly from her lips.

He nodded, understanding painted all over his face, and moved to help her.

* * *

Legolas stared down at the rough, bristly ridge of his horse's mane, rubbing at it somewhat absently as he waited.

Without warning, Mithrandir had appeared at the door to his own chambers, eyes sparkling, and had cheerfully announced that they were leaving before the hourglass was turned again.

Now, they were all waiting for the wizard's actual appearance. Tauriel and Aragorn were also noticeably absent.

He frowned mildly, his mind edging around the subject of Tauriel for several moments and then giving in and plunging head-first.

No matter what he did, it seemed, even the most carefully laid plans failed and curdled much like sour milk, poisoning Tauriel's perception of him as her blood had once been tainted.

He oft times had to remind himself that she, too, had made mistakes and provided ample reasons to lose his trust.

It was sometimes easy to forget that, when he had stony green eyes plastered to his back as she glared at him furiously.

For a long time, he had forgotten how much anger she could imbue her stare with.

He sighed, the exhale so slight a casual observer would not have noticed it.

The horse shifted underneath him, leaning harder on another leg.

Legolas wondered how he was supposed to gather the pieces up this time and turn them into something new.

Beyond his tumultuous relationship with Tauriel, there was the matter of her injuries.

And her _mother_.

He had not ceased to worry about Tauriel's well being. If anything, her dismissal of Gimli and himself from her chambers had served to send all the alarms clanging in his head.

Something had been wrong.

Very, _very_ wrong.

But he had not pushed the matter further, and now he was fervently hoping he would not come to regret that particular choice. After all, the situation she had been placed into was mostly his fault, too - he had failed to alert her to the mild side affects to the balm and she had clearly been suffering somewhat.

Abruptly, the soft clop of hooves on cobblestones pulled him from his musings,

Tauriel eased her stallion - Brego, was it not?- into the small group. Aragorn was right behind her, unnecessarily close to her mount.

Her face was deathly pale, her lips pinched tightly. And yet somehow it only served to enhance the great, burning pools of green fire that had seemingly sunken deep into her skull.

Watching from the corner of his eye, Legolas noticed the ever-so-slight sway of her body in the saddle and the way Aragorn had one arm half-out, as if to catch her as she fell.

A wave of concern - and more than a little guilt - washed over him.

"Ah," someone said, and Legolas stiffened in the saddle, caught mostly unawares.

"Gandalf," Tauriel said in way of greeting, her voice low and raspier than usual.

Aragorn nodded, but remained silent.

"Are we all here, then?" the wizard continued.

A low murmur swept across the group as they answered with affirmation. "Aye," Legolas said.

"Good," Gandalf said, sounding pleased. "Shall we go, then?"

"Yes," Tauriel burst out vehemently, the action completely out of character.

"Really," someone else drawled throatily, and Legolas felt the blood drain from his face.

 _No._

 _Not her._

 _Not now._

"You would leave without me, my daughter?" Audriel asked, sounding almost legitimately wounded. But there was a sharp edge of laughter to her voice, and so Legolas worried not about her feelings. He had not forgotten what she had said to him mere hours previously, and his body was half-tensed as he waited for her to turn on him with razor-like words and flaming accusations.

"Mother," Tauriel said, surprise flickering over her face. "You would join us?"

"Indeed." Audriel snapped her fingers, and within moments the reins of a dun mare had been pressed into her hand.

Legolas gritted his teeth and waited for Mithrandir to do something - to object, at least - but was sorely disappointed.

The wizard looked strangely accepting. Weary, yes, and perhaps even mildly reproachful, but still he did not move to stop her.

Audriel mounted, the silence heavy around them all.

"Well?" she demanded, sounding irritated. "Do you intend to stand around doing nothing?"

Gandalf seemed to force a smile. "Goodness, no. He brushed his heels against Shadowfax's sides, and the white steed leaped forward.

Audriel hummed low in her throat with clear satisfaction, and settled into place at Tauriel's side.

Legolas bit his tongue, hard, but remained silent.

Tauriel was caught between Aragorn and Audriel. There would be no way to slide up alongside her and ask that she speak to him.

And so he fell back and did his best to content himself with watching.

Waiting, too.

His eyes were keen and his hearing sharp, and he intended to put both to good use. He was willing to wait. For years, perhaps, if necessary. When he found even the meagerest of footholds, he would begin the climb.

This time, he promised himself, he would not slip and fall.

* * *

Eowyn twisted her hands together tightly, wringing them until they were striped red and white.

 _... take care, for you will only have so much time with him and there will be no chance to say goodbye ..._

A shiver snaked its way down her spine.

For a good bit of her life, she had heard whispers about the elves - bedtime tales, she had always thought, stories spun to scare small children.

Now, though, she realized there was more truth to them than she would have liked.

They were deadly. And beautiful, almost impossibly so. They were seemingly the embodiment of perfection.

Why, then, she wondered, did Tauriel seem to be so - _fragile_? - no, the red-haired elf was nothing if not a vicious, almost brutal fighter. Shadowy, perhaps. There was an undefinable _something_ underneath her usual calm facade that most of the other elves did not have.

She had fairly begged Audriel - yes, that was the name wasn't it? - to let her join them as they rode out. She had argued that Tauriel would need someone who was able to care for her as she healed.

Audriel had stared at her without emotion and then bluntly said that it was no longer a problem; she would be joining the Fellowship and watching over her daughter herself.

Eowyn folded in on herself, face burning as she remembered Audriel's lip curling as she looked Eowyn up and down.

She had _pleaded_ , for goodness' sakes.

The memory was more than a little humiliating. For all her strength, Eowyn was still prey to insecurities. Being silently, but thoroughly, scolded by an elf - a gorgeous, awe-inspiring, highly skilled elf who was a close embodiment of what she had long wished to be, no less - had done nothing to boost her confidence.

She sighed, letting her hands fall to her sides.

 _Take care._

 _Take care, Eowyn._

 _There will be no chance to say goodbye._

* * *

 _Thranduil placed a hand on his son's shoulder, standing behind him and slightly to the side as Legolas watched a certain red-haired elleth spin across the training grounds, her movements entirely too dramatic for practicality._

 _"Why do you keep her under such careful observation?" Legolas asked carefully, his words slightly halting as he strove to ensure he did not accidentally insult his father._

 _"Because she has potential beyond measure," the Elvenking responded easily, the lilt of his voice rising and falling, the sound rich and almost hypnotizing. "And because she reminds me of someone I once knew."_

 _Legolas frowned ever so slightly, not quite comprehending. "She does? I was led to believe you know not where she comes from."_

 _Thranduil turned, his cloak draping across one shoulder. There was a fresh coat of powder-white snow gracing the forest far above them, and the chill had slowly started to creep underground._

 _Legolas followed after a moment's hesitation. "_ Ada _?"_

 _"I do not know where she came from," Thranduil said slowly. "I do, though, remember her blood-line."_

 _"Aye?" Legolas stepped forward almost eagerly. Thranduil watched with sharp eyes, an arrow of unease hitting him._

 _"Indeed. And it because of them I wish to watch her so carefully - they were -are, even now- poison." There was a touch of bitterness tainting his words, and he fought to wipe it away. "Why did you wish to know, my son?"_

 _"I was thinking that we could perhaps return her to her family," Legolas said, sounding, for a moment, ridiculously innocent. And yet he had fought and killed and spilt his own blood upon the earth so many times before..._

 _Thranduil allowed the corners of his mouth tilt upwards ever so slightly in a genuine expression of fondness. Clearly, there was nothing to be worried about. Legolas wished only to unite her with her own blood-kin, nothing more. "You are kind-hearted," he told his son, and Legolas ducked his head at one of his father's rare displays of open praise. "Take care, though, that you do not allow yourself to be blinded to the darkness in this world."_

 _"As you say, father," Legolas murmured, fingers playing absently with the fletching on one of his newly-crafted arrows._

 _Thranduil nodded without further comment and turned his attention back to Tauriel._

 _There would be time enough to inform his son of her true heritage, if indeed he ever decided to do so._

* * *

Aragorn eyed Audriel with a hint of distaste, watching as she bristled angrily.

They had halted for the night, and he had helped Tauriel down from her horse carefully, noting the way she had paled every time something jolted against her skin.

The sun had gone down soon after they had settled the horses onto pickets for the night and handed out rations of food. Tauriel had picked at hers for several minutes, forced down several bites, and then handed it to Gimli without a word.

Audriel had cornered him at the soonest opportunity, her eyes narrowed to slits and her bearing blatantly threatening.

"You let her go," she snarled at him through gritted teeth.

"Aye," Aragorn answered calmly. "I thought it best to allow her some freedom. To say no would be to invite a complete act of rebellion on her part. You know that as well as I."

She fumed for several seconds, her shoulders jerking oddly, the contours of her face smoothing strangely and then snapping back into place. "It matters not. She has no care for her own well being, Ranger! She will ride until she drops dead to the ground and think nothing of it. The line must be drawn somewhere."

"I did what I thought best."

Audriel flinched. "What you thought best may be the death of her," she snapped, but her ire was slowly ebbing away. He could see it in the set of her shoulders and the tilt of her head, and was glad.

"Perhaps. But would you have cared to try and stop her?" Aragorn asked easily.

Audriel's lip curled, her eyes suddenly and startlingly turning pitch-black from iris to pupil.

Aragorn stiffened, a hand straying towards the hilt of his sword.

"I warned you to tread with care," Audriel said, her voice dropping, the timbre husky as her skin turned starkly white and her hair brightened in color.

"Indeed."

"Why, then, did you not heed my words?" she asked, seemingly genuinely curious.

Aragorn tilted the sheathing of his blade forwards slightly in preparation for an extremely fast draw if it was required.

"Because I do not fear you, Seena," he said softly.

The air crackled and hummed all around them.

He almost expected a bolt of lightning to come down and strike the earth upon which he stood.

He almost hear her thinking.

Could see the flexing of the muscles in her hand as she decided whether or not there would be a fight.

Another moment passed.

He did not let down his guard.

And then she moved.

Blazingly fast, her feet barely touching the ground, and there was a blade in her hand as she slid towards him with teeth bared, glinting white in the paleness of her face.

Instinctively, Aragorn whipped his sword out and upwards, locking blades with her and leaning forward.

She was strong.

He had known this before, but now he realized he had underestimated exactly how much force she was able to put into a blow.

Her eyes, when they met his own, were pools of pure black malice.

The metal screeched as it shifted.

Aragorn used his height to an advantage, rising upwards and then pushing down.

They were locked together, toying with the idea of actually fighting - either one could disengage in a moment - and Aragorn was loathe to harm her; his own feelings aside, Tauriel seemed to care dearly for her mother and he had not the heart to remove the last piece of her family unless he absolutely had to.

Audriel - Seena - chuckled.

The sound sent chills racing down his spine.

"I watched a friend of yours die, you know," she said sweetly. "Watched the blood leave his body and the light fade from his eyes."

Icy fingers scraped their way down his back. "I care not," he said, with forced steadiness, and pushed down even harder.

She hummed with sickening satisfaction.

It occurred to him that he did not like the ease in which she was holding her blade up; her arms showed little to no signs of giving in.

And abruptly there was a blade at his throat, pricking his skin, razor-sharp and deadly.

He stiffened, and in the space of half a heartbeat he had to decide whether or not to try and lunge for safety or to drop his blade and let her have her way.

"Enough," Audriel said flatly, clearly having guessed at what he was thinking. "Drop your weapon."

He tensed for a long moment, and then slowly - slowly - dropped the sword to the hard-packed earth.

She grinned and lowered the blade that had been pressed against his jugular. "Good."

He noticed she was careful not to allow him access to any of his other weapons.

"Well, then," Aragorn said calmly, and even now his mind was spinning, working its way through the options presented to him, "are you going to kill me?"

Her lips pursed, and staring into the oil-like darkness of her eyes was chilling. "No," she answered coolly. "Not quite yet. You made the mistake of trying to hurt my daughter, the only thing in this world that I still love. You hurt her, and therefore you hurt me. Anyone who hurts me ends up dead."

He lifted a brow, icily calm, the motion somewhat derisive.

"You still think I do not love her," Audriel said, nearly surprised, and abruptly the color flooded back over her face, her eyes going green once more, her skin and hair returning to their original colors.

"It is hard to believe when you are holding me at sword-point," Aragorn said dryly.

Audriel smirked. "Let me put you at ease, then: she is all I have left. I will kill for her, bleed for her, die for her if necessary. You would be wise not to under-estimate my feelings regarding her again."

"As you wish," he said calmly. "Tell me, then," he added, and one hand was slowly straying towards a knife at his belt, "how are you going to explain your killing me to Tauriel? I admit, I am curious."

She stared at him for a long moment.

And then she burst out laughing.

The sound spread across his skin, and oddly enough she no longer seemed to be angry.

Audriel doubled over, taking care to move backwards as she clutched at her stomach.

She was laughing so hard she was heaving for breath, and Aragorn had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do or think. He drew the blade from his belt.

"Oh, Ranger," she gasped, straightening and sheathing her blade, "you are to be congratulated. You are more of a man than I had previously thought."

Aragorn fairly gaped at her in utter confusion. His knife was still in his hand, forgotten for the moment. The alarm bells that had previously been ringing in his mind had vanished.

"Please," Audriel snapped, clearly starting to regain her acidic personality. "Did you really think I would have harmed you? I would have to be utterly mad to even consider the idea."

He thought to himself that the likelihood of her being mad was becoming more and more probable with every second that passed.

"It was all a farce, then?" he ground out, and now irritation was coloring his words. He tamped it down - allowing a potential enemy to see your emotions was never a wise idea.

"Aye," she said calmly. "I wished to see what you would do and say. You exceeded my expectations."

He felt a muscle twitch in his jaw, loathing the sound of the compliment as it came from her lips. "I am glad I provided at least some amusement," he said tersely. "I must return to camp."

He turned to go after one more moment of careful calculation, his steps short and measured.

A soft ripple of laughter trailed behind him as he walked away.

* * *

"Sauron's wrath will be terrible," Gandalf said, "and his retribution swift."

Somewhere in the distance, a red light blossomed.

Tauriel swayed slightly in the saddle, fighting to keep the black spots currently dancing in front of her eyes from completely taking over. She felt rather than saw Aragorn - and likely Legolas's - worried eyes on her back and did her best to remain impartial.

Audriel turned to smile broadly at her daughter. Her green eyes were dancing, full of promise that Saruman's betrayal would not go unpunished.

"The battle for Helm's Deep is over," the wizard continued. "The battle for Middle Earth is about to begin. All our hopes now lie with two little Hobbits somewhere in the wilderness."

* * *

 ***sighs***

 **Not much to say, other than I will, as always, update as soon as I possibly can with out providing utter rubbish as reading material, LOL.**

 **R &R, please! :)**


	37. I Know You

**Finally got y'all an update. :) It's a bit shorter than I would have liked, but I had to cut it off here or make the chapter ridiculously long.**

 **ColdOnePaul, Guest, yes, she is definitely not the typical wood elf. That is an interesting idea about Gandalf giving her a medical draught. I'd never really considered that as a possible turn for the story to take. Right now, Audriel is still trying to keep her injuries a secret from the rest of the group - of course, Gandalf probably knows either way but it never hurts to try. ;)**  
 **Warriorheart5, bipolar is an excellent description for her. I added a bit of interaction between our two favorite elves in this chapter, although not much. This fic is a super slow burn, so don't expect any huge developments all at once. :)**  
 **Ronan, I loved writing that bit! I hope I managed to capture Aragorn's character fairly well. They are two utterly different characters and it was interesting to see them clash.**  
 **Tk0vrDawn, yes. Even an elf probably should have faded by now, though there is a reason for that not happening.**  
 **Guest, it'll definitely happen in the next few chapters! :D**

 **Hope y'all enjoy!**

* * *

"It's good," Merry muttered, half-musingly. "Definitely from the Shire. Longbottom Leaf."

Pippin nodded. "I feel like I'm back at the Green Dragon."

"Green Dragon," Merry sighed.

"A mug of ale in my hand . . . putting my feet up on a settle after a hard day's work."

Merry snickered. "Only, you've never done a hard day's work."

They both laughed.

* * *

Tauriel's eyes slid over the moss-covered tree trunks, her skin tingling with the desire to reach out and explore the woodland.

She knew better, though.

A shiver traced its way down her spine, stabs of pain following close behind.

The atmosphere was tense.

And dark.

Shadowy.

They were all tensed with expectation.

And perhaps more than a little worry.

Mithrandir, too, had reassured them that if anyone knew where the two hobbits were, it would be Tauriel.

Audriel had watched the proceedings with half-lidded eyes and a knowing smile.

Theoden had scowled and thankfully had not offered up his opinion on the matter.

Aragorn, too, had been almost entirely silent for the majority of the journey. There were deep lines spreading out from the corners of his eyes, and his mouth was tight.

Tauriel had often followed his gaze and found it resting upon her mother.

It worried her, that. More than it probably should - she knew that Audriel was not especially easy to interact with.

But there was still that nagging voice in the back of her head.

 _...careful careful careful careful..._

Though the vivid, horror-tainted hallucinations had vanished within another day's time - and she had been immensely relieved - she oft times found herself wondering if she perhaps could not use Aruelle's advice.

And there were more memories coming back.

She almost wanted them to stay lost. To stay buried in the past.

She was jerked from her thoughts by a gentle brush of fingers on her elbow. Her knee-jerk reaction was to lurch away and reach for the knife at her belt, but she stopped.

"The trees," Legolas said, his grey eyes steady. "Do they speak to you?"

Tauriel flinched at the very thought, eyes tracing their way over the tangles of deep-green and coarse leaves that shivered in the wind.

She opened her mouth and then closed it.

She did not know what to say.

She had offered a truce between them - a friendship, of sorts.

She knew she had to follow through.

She wanted to.

And yet she did not.

The medicines for her pain were blurring everything.

Making it all go bright and then dull again.

Legolas was still waiting for an answer. His face was calm. There was no hint of accusation painted over it.

She swallowed.

"No," she said. "I do not dare to speak to them. These trees - they are dangerous. They are angry, even now."

A soft hum of what seemed to be surprise came from her left, where Audriel was positioned. Aragorn was riding ahead with Gimli and Theoden, and Gandalf was muttering something from around his pipe, somewhere in the general area.

Tauriel glanced at her mother and then back at Legolas, whose brow was furrowed in a way that usually meant he was about to demand if she was all right.

She tensed, waiting for the question.

But it never came.

"Saruman made a grave mistake when he awoke the wrath of the woodland," Legolas murmured, inclining his head slightly.

Tauriel nodded wordlessly, the tension mostly leaving her shoulders.

One of her wounds had broken open again, she noted, almost absently - she could barely feel the pain.

But she could feel the blood sliding down her leg, staining her skin berry-red.

She hesitated, and looked to Audriel.

"Mother," she said in a low voice, vague humiliation tainting her words, and Audriel's eyes sharpened in instant understanding. She reached into her saddle bag, handing Tauriel the balm and a roll of bandaging.

Legolas looked away, his jaw tightening, as Tauriel leaned down, holding her horse's reins with one hand as she peeled the leggings upwards, ripping the scarlet-soaked bandages away almost casually. Smearing the balm onto the wound and working it as best she could, she wrapped the fresh bandaging around it snuggly and worked the cloth downwards to cover her skin once more.

She half-expected a comment on how she should take better care of herself, but all was pleasingly silent.

A muscle was ticking at his jawline, though, and for a moment she felt a flash of remorse.

It was wiped away by the sound of hoofbeats as Aragorn guided his mount towards them, moving at an easy trot as Gimli clung tightly behind him. Theoden sat easy in the saddle, his face creased with expectation.

"We are close now," Aragorn said, the words coming out colder than she though they should have given the current circumstances.

Gandalf brightened, pulling his pipe away from his mouth. "Good! Very good. Are we all ready, then?"

Tauriel forced herself to nod.

 _What if I am wrong? I could be wrong. I could be. And then - and then...?_

 _Enough._

The word hit her like a lightning bolt, making her jolt painfully in her seat.

Audriel glared at her. _Stop doubting yourself._

And now she recognized the voice.

The voice that had once urged her to let the fires burn, for when she came out of them she would be stronger.

" _You_ ," she breathed, turning to stare at her mother, and almost as if in answer to her words, a gentle breeze floated over them, whipping softly at her long hair.

Audriel half-scowled, arching a brow so high it nearly hit her hairline. _Yes, me. I am rather surprised you did not realize it before._

Tauriel shook herself.

Legolas was staring at them rather suspiciously, looking as if he was fighting the urge to inquire about something.

 _Why did you not tell me? Why did you say that? How did you know?_ The questions tumbled from her, and even though she did not speak her lips were silently forming the words.

The horses were moving forwards again, their hooves clopping against the moist soil in a sound that was inexplicably soothing.

 _Cease your senseless chatter,_ Audriel snapped, and Tauriel found herself a bit taken aback by her bluntness. _I will answer your questions in time. But you cannot risk our being discovered now - not when we are so close._

Something snapped, the tugging cord vanishing and then slumping awkwardly in her mind.

Tauriel shook herself, glancing at her mother for a moment - she was scowling - and then looked at Legolas, who appeared more than a little bemused.

"What?" she growled, ill-temper overtaking her for a brief moment. She regretted her tone as soon as she had closed her mouth; Legolas blinked and then turned his face away.

She winced.

Swallowed, harder than necessary, and shoved at the crumbling texture of her vision. Water was swirling all around her, lapping over her skin. She could feel the coolness of it, soothing the aches away.

But it was not reality, she knew, and so she pushed until it disappeared.

"I am sorry," she muttered, so quietly she thought even his elven ears would not have heard.

But he nodded, the movement a bit sharper than usual. "It is forgiven, then. I understand," he said, and rode on without further comment.

She could not help feeling like there was an "all" stuck in between the "is" and "forgiven".

 _It is all forgiven, then._

But, she told herself, it was just the medicines.

* * *

They broke through into the sunlight as the sun was just barely starting to ride low on the horizon.

It took a brief moment for her eyes to adjust to the glaring light, and then as they focused, her entire body slumped in weak-kneed relief.

 _They are here,_ she was crying out inside, _they are alive!_

"Welcome, my lord," one of them - Merry, she thought - called, pointing upwards towards the great tower, "to Isengard!"

The other chortled like a loon from around his pipe.

"You young rascals!" Gimli growled, eyes flashing from underneath his helmet. "A merry hunt you've led us on, and now we find you feasting and smoking!"

Tauriel frowned, sniffing the air as inconspicuously as she could. The air was indeed a bit smoky. She coughed lightly.

"We," Pippin said impishly," are sitting on a field of victory, enjoying a few well-earned comforts. The salted pork is particularly good."

"Salted pork?" Gimli demanded.

Pippin smirked.

Gandalf shook his head in good-natured disgust. "Hobbits."

"We're under orders, from Treabeard, who's taken over management of Isengard," Merry added.

Tauriel froze.

 _Yes,_ her mind was singing, _yes, yes! You know what do do now, you remember..._

The problem was, she couldn't. She shut her eyes and tried to calm the frantic beating of her heart.

The waves lapped and tugged and pulled, and they were carrying her away, out on the tide. She wondered if she would ever return.

Her eyes opened so abruptly it almost hurt.

 _Yes,_ she thought again. _Yes, I do. I do remember._

* * *

"Young Master Gandalf," Treebeard croaked, dipping his massive craggy head. "I'm glad you've come. Wood and water, stock and stone I can master. But there is a Wizard to manage here, locked in his tower."

Tauriel hunkered in on herself, trying to keep her mind from shattering into a million tiny little pieces.

"Show yourself," she heard Aragorn whisper.

The words echoed in her ears.

 _Show yourself._

 _Show..._

 _...you remember..._

 _You know, now._

 _Show yourself..._

She sucked in a breath of air.

And straightened, lifting her chin as she allowed her rusty red hair to slide down her shoulders.

The blurriness was all gone.

Treebeard stopped midstride.

"You," he said, his great voice sounding absurdly underused with the single, slightly weak, word.

They all stilled, following his gaze until every single one was staring at Tauriel.

Theoden looked blatantly horrified, almost as if he expected her to doom them all to a terrible fate. Gandalf was politely curious, Gimli questioning. Aragorn and Legolas backed their horses up a few steps.

Even Audriel moved ever so slightly away. Her eyes were narrowed to slits, glittering poison-green in the sunlight.

Tauriel cleared her throat.

"Yes," she said, the word tearing itself painfully from her throat. "Me."

A moment of tense silence.

He spoke again.

"You will have to speak with me later, forest-child," Treebeard croaked, his voice grave.

Tauriel half-flinched.

"Aye," she finally rasped. "I will."

He nodded, seeming satisfied. Around them, the others began to move and speak normally once more.

"Be careful," Mithrandir was saying. "Even in defeat, Saruman is dangerous."

"Well, let's just have his head and be done with it," Gimli suggested, sounding eager to begin with those particular proceedings.

"No," the wizard said sharply. "We need him alive. We need him to talk."

And Audriel grinned, then, with needle-sharp teeth and lips bitten red over the course of the past few days.

Tauriel did not notice.

She listened to the gentle whisper of the wind, her fingers tracing along the fletching of an arrow.

 _Yes. I remember, now._

* * *

"You have fought many wars and slain many men, Theoden-king, and made peace afterwards. Can we not take counsel together as we once did, my old friend? Can we not have peace, you and I?"

Tauriel tugged herself from her thoughts in time to see the king's face curl into a half-snarl.

"We shall have peace," he snapped. "Yes, we shalll have peace when you answer for the burning of the Westfold and the children that lie dead there! We shall have peace when the lives of the soldiers whose bodies were hewn, even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg, are avenged. When you hang from a gibbet for the sport of your own crows, we shall have peace!"

The wizard's lip curled. "Gibbets and crows? Dotard! What do you want, Gandalf Greyhame? Let me guess - the key of Orthanc. Or perhaps the Keys of Barad-dur itself along with the crowns on the seven kings and the rods of the Five Wizards!"

Gandalf shifted ever so slightly on Shadowfax's back. "Your treachery has already cost many lives. Thousands more are at risk. But you can save them, Saruman. You were deep in the enemy's counsel."

Tauriel's eyes flicked over the top of the tower, searching for anyone else. She felt like there was something - or someone - she should be looking for.

Audriel hissed through clenched teeth beside her.

Had Tauriel been looking, she would have seen the rippling of her mother's features as her hair bleached white-blonde and then streaked through with mirky brown.

"So you have come here for information," Saruman said, not sounding surprised. "I have some for you, then."

He lifted up what Tauriel knew to be his Palantir and looked into it.

"Something festers in the heart of Middle-Earth. Something that you have failed to see. But the Great Eye has seen it." He dropped the globe almost carelessly. "Even now he presses his advantage. His attack will come soon. _You are all going to die."_

Gandalf nudged Shadowfax forward until he was almost at the base of the Orthanc.

"But you know this, don't you, Gandalf? You cannot think that this Ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor. This exile, crept from the shadows, will never be crowned king. Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those closest to him, those he professes to love. Tell me, what words of comfort did you give the Halfling before you sent him to his doom? The path that you have set him on can only lead to death."

"It matters not," Audriel snarled abruptly.

Saruman froze.

Everyone else fell silent as well. Gandalf's mouth was half-opened, as if he was about to answer.

"Aruelle," Saruman said, emotionless.

Audriel's lip peeled back into a snarl. "No," she hissed. "Audriel."

"I've heard enough!" Gimli growled to Legolas somewhere behind them. "Shoot him. Stick an arrow in his gob."

"No," Gandalf said sharply. "Come down, Saruman, and your life will be spared."

"And are you all in agreement with that?" Saruman snapped. "If I know anything about two of your elven companions, it is that they will not allow that to come to pass." He waved his hand dismissively. "Save your pity and your mercy. I have no use for it!"

A flash of orange-white fire, and a ball of flames erupted from Saruman's staff. It gathered around Gandalf, and Tauriel tensed all over, but rather than hitting him it mushroomed around him, held at bay by some sort of shield.

She exhaled almost imperceptibly.

Gandalf waved his own staff, dispersing the flames. "Saruman, your staff is broken."

Saruman stared down at his hands in horror as the staff crumbled in his hands.

Abruptly, someone rose up from behind the ruined wizard.

Tauriel sucked in a breath.

It was Grima Wormtongue.

She felt disgust coil low in her gut and pushed it harshly down.

"Grima," Theoden called, "you need not follow him. You were not always as you are now. You were once a Man of Rohan. Come down."

Tauriel gaped at Theoden in disbelief and knew that he was perhaps right to offer Wormtongue a second chance, but also felt that if she had her way he would lie dead with an arrow through his eye.

"A Man of Rohan?" Saruman sneered. "What is the house of Rohan but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek and their brats roll on the floor with the dogs? The victory at Helm's Deep does not belong to you, Theoden Horse-master. You are a lesser son of greater sires."

"Grima, come down. Be free of him." Theoden had apparently decided to ignore Saruman's vile words.

"Free?" Saruman was chuckling. "He will never be free."

"No," Grima Wormtongue said slowly.

Someone else stepped forward, cloaked in dark colors, their face shielded from view.

Tauriel's pulse leaped several notches higher.

 _I know you._

 _I remember._

 _Show yourself._

Slowly, the figure's head turned, and it seemed to meet her gaze. She saw a glimmer of icy eyes, and then they reached upwards, preparing to lower the cowl of their cloak.

"Get down, cur," Saruman was snarling, backhanding Grima across the face and sending him tumbling backwards.

The hand was pale, wrapped in heavy scarring.

It fingered the hood, and then it fell backwards, revealing their face.

Tauriel started as if hit by a bolt of lightning.

 _I know you._

 _I remember._

 _Remember what you did._

She lifted her own hand, watching it tremble much harder than it should, and pointed. When she spoke, her words were filled with icy horror, the sound echoing around them all as she felt her mouth fill with bile and her stomach churn dangerously.

 _"You."_

* * *

 **Hmm, I wonder who that could be. ;)**  
 **I have a good bit of the next chapter written. It will be up within three weeks, hopefully within two. I tend to update on either Wednesdays or the weekends. :)**

 **Thank y'all so much for reading!**


	38. Retaliation

**An update! No time to respond to reviews now, but I do hope I did the scenes in this chapter justice. I changed it all up a bit, but hopefully not so much as to ruin it. We don't see much of Tauriel in this chapter, but she'll get her chance. :) And, as promised, the drinking scene is next chapter.**  
 **Oh, and we pushed 300 reviews last chapter. I'm still rather in shock. Thank you all so, so much for taking the time to leave those little notes, be it with criticism or mutual excitement. I read and treasure every one, and they always give me a push to keep on going!**

 **There is a trigger warning for this chapter, as well, towards the very end.**

 **Hope y'all enjoy!**

* * *

Audriel lurched in the saddle, and all around them her daughter's words were echoing.

 _You._

 _You._

 _You._

She ripped her focus away from the wizard and turned it to the others.

Glaring eyes stared down at them as the arrogant, scarred elf smirked.

"Ah, yes," he said. "I knew we would meet again someday."

Audriel looked at Tauriel. She was shaking violently in the saddle, her eyes darkening until they were a murky, muddy green.

 _"Glamhoth melar,_ " she spat, and her words were still carrying themselves high upon the wind.

Legolas whipped around to look at Tauriel, and for a heartbeat his eyes were glued to hers, his brow furrowed as he strove to read her face.

Tauriel closed her eyes for a long moment, and Audriel could see her fingers flexing hard.

She was surely burning for her bow, and an arrow nocked on the string.

Audriel bit the inside of her cheek so hard her teeth cut into the soft flesh and it began to bleed.

Gandalf had not even flinched at Tauriel's outburst, nor glanced their way. "Saruman! You were deep in the enemy's counsel. Tell us what you know!"

The wizard sneered, his lip curling, and her blood curdled with undiluted hatred.

Audriel closed her eyes and reached.

Her mind snaked out to brush against the other elf's consciousness, and within a moment she had broken through and torn secrets from him before he even knew she was there.

For a brief second, she grasped at Wormtongue's muddy being, and she glimpsed an image.

She tensed, and opened her eyes.

Grima Wormtongue was staggering to his feet, and in his hand was a small, thin dagger.

She bit down the shout of warning that was on the tip of her tongue, drawing and nocking an arrow fast enough that there was no time for any of the others to stop her.

It hissed through the air, thunked into flesh, and quivered slightly.

Wormtongue gurgled out a half-scream through the arrow shaft embedded in his throat and collapsed to the slick surface on which he had stood.

Theoden-king made a wordless exclamation of horror and shock.

Audriel's body was humming with the feel of a fresh kill.

 _He is mine,_ she thought fiercely. _Saruman is mine. No one else will have the satisfaction of bleeding the life from his veins._

Gandalf had whipped around at Wormtongue's sudden death, and his face was harshly creased. "Audriel!" he thundered. "What have you done?"

She curled her fingers up into her palm and let her nails cut into her hand until there were whitish half-moons marking her skin.

"He was going to kill his master," she said by way of explanation.

There was a pause.

"She does indeed speak truth," the scarred elf said silkily, gliding to Saruman's side. "Given but another second, and it would have been too late."

Tauriel swayed violently at the sound of his voice, reaching for the bow strapped to the back of her saddle, her other hand straying towards the quiver of arrows still at her belt.

"No!" Aragorn snapped, and from her other side he grasped at her wrist.

"Let me go!" Tauriel snarled, fighting hard enough that he was jerked along with her movements. The horses shifted warily underneath them.

"You are not strong enough!" the Ranger said with considerable strength, and Audriel knew full-well that Tauriel would die rather than admit the words coming out of his mouth were true.

"I care not!" Tauriel's voice was rising dangerously, her eyes dark, and there was a curl to her lips that made her mother reconsider whether or not she wanted to continue restraining her daughter. _"I know him!"_

"She speaks true," Legolas answered, his eyes a steady grey and altogether far too much like Thranduil's for Audriel's taste. She forced herself not to sneer.

"You will withdraw your guard," Saruman was saying, and as the words reached her ears they registered but did not fully pierce, "and I will tell you where your doom will be decided. I will not be held prisoner here."

"And how am I to trust your word, Saruman?" Gandalf demanded.

Audriel made a split-second decision, knowing she would likely sorely regret it later on.

"Who is he?" she hissed in Tauriel's ear, one hand holding her daughter's bow down as Tauriel tugged at it.

 _"Esnilleth_ ," Tauriel spat, and there was more hatred in her voice than Audriel had ever heard before.

The look Legolas tossed at Tauriel spoke volumes. "He is a coward and a weakling," he added. "He was a member of the Guard until he betrayed us - Tauriel and I were both there - by revealing our location to a group of Orcs. She nearly died as a result of his actions. If she does not want his head, I do." The last words were delivered with so much force that Audriel drew back from him for a brief moment.

Tauriel exhaled through her nose, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "He is _mine_ ," she said viciously through clenched teeth.

Audriel nodded, accepting her words without further argument. "Very well then."

Casually, she lifted her bow once more, nocking another arrow - the fletching was dyed blood-red, and she thought it fitting - and started to draw back her bow.

She aimed carefully, wanting not a killing shot but one that would injure him significantly.

The arrow snaked away.

She waited for him to fall.

Waited for the shout of pain that almost always followed such a shot.

She waited, but it never came.

She narrowed her eyes and then flinched as she processed what she was seeing.

Esnilleth was holding the arrow in his right hand, one brow lifted as it quivered violently, the head just inches from his left shoulder.

"Really, Audriel," he said mockingly, "was that a wise decision?"

His words hung in the air for a moment, and Audriel realized a split second too late what he intended to do.

" _No_!" she roared, arrows upon her bow string before the word had even left her mouth, but he had moved too fast, had moved behind Saruman, and all she heard was the scream of her sister as the flames ate her flesh away and her children were butchered...

Esnilleth plunged the arrow into Saruman's back, and the wizard stopped mid-sentence.

Saruman sagged, mouth hanging open, his eyes wide, the color draining from his face.

Audriel knew that the angle in which the elf had shoved the arrow head and shaft into his master's back had pierced his heart.

Esnilleth smiled easily, and shoved the wizard's body casually off the tower, watching as it splashed into the waters below.

"Well, then," he said calmly, "now that that's out of the way, is there anything you all wish to say?"

"Yes," Tauriel whispered, her anger drained away, and as Audriel turned to look at her, she heard the deadly twang of a bow string as an arrow - no, arrows - were let fly, and froze for a half-second before turning to look up at the top of the tower.

Esnilleth looked down at the twin arrows protruding from his shoulders with vague surprise, a mocking smile still curving his lips.

Audriel half-winced; Tauriel had aimed to wedge the arrow heads into the sockets of his arms, and from what she could tell had succeeded.

A heartbeat passed.

And then he toppled from the edge of the tower, his eyes wide as he plummeted towards the ground - and was speared through the chest by one of Saruman's creations.

She heard rather than saw Gimli recoil in what was almost horrified sympathy, a half-groan leaving the dwarf's mouth.

Tauriel edged her horse forward, eyes trained on the massive spike protruding from Esnilleth's chest.

"What a pity," she said, emotionless.

Audriel let loose a short burst of laughter, the sound quick and almost surprised.

Legolas, Theoden, and Aragorn's faces appeared to be caught in between approval and disgust at the elf's death.

Gandalf closed his eyes, disappointment painted over his face for a long moment. "Send word to all our allies, and to every corner of Middle-Earth that still stands free. The enemy moves against us. We need to know where he will strike."

Theoden nodded wordlessly.

The wheel upon which the elf had fallen groaned, spinning slightly, and his body sank into the water.

Tauriel sighed, tension draining from her body, leaving her looking weary. "It is done, then," she said, and her eyes said she was sorry that Audriel had not gotten to exact her vengeance upon the wizard.

Audriel nodded, somewhat bitterly, being careful to hide the rising anger that was in her heart. "Aye. It is done."

* * *

"The filth of Saruman is washing away," Treebeard rumbled. "Trees will come back to live here. Young trees; wild trees."

Tauriel nodded somewhat stiffly. "I hope it is so. No forest deserves to be reduced to this."

Silence fell for a time, and then Treebeard spoke again.

"You look well, forest-child."

Tauriel hesitated for a long moment before answering. "I am better than I was," she said honestly.

Treebeard inclined his head. "I am glad. I was ... sorry, to see one of your race reduced to so little."

Tauriel paled somewhat. "Indeed."

The Ent exhaled gustily. "Come... Sit upon my branches and tell me of the goings-on beyond my wood..."

She nodded, taking the proffered leaf-covered limb and working her way up onto Treebeard's body as best she could. She hated the tremblings of the muscles in her legs and arms as she climbed.

"Darkness is coming," she finally said softly. "I think we are all at least a little scared. For what if Sauron wins, and everything is plunged into the deepest Shadow? There will be no life left upon these lands..."

And so she continued, speaking until her mouth was paper-dry and her eyelids were threatening to drift downwards.

She smothered a yawn, feeling perhaps younger than she normally did. "I am sorry. I did not anticipate feeling quite so weary."

Treebeard huffed out a laugh. "I am ... grateful for your time, forest-child. I suppose I should indeed take you home. They will be looking for you..."

There was silence for several heartbeats.

"You saved me, you know," Tauriel finally said softly. "I will be forever in your - and this woodland's - debt."

Treebeard inclined his head. "They have been wondering ... why you have not yet fulfilled your promise."

She laughed shakily. "And so that is why they so rudely refused me entrance."

 _Memories, burning white-hot through her consciousness. Everything she had ever done to harm others washing over her skin like poison. Her hand, clenching around the bark until bone shone pale through the skin. And Legolas, wrenching her away when it was almost too late-_

"They thought that perhaps ... if they helped you remember ... then you would come back to them. It has been ... long since they have found a friend. They never wished to harm you."

"Yes." She was quite for a long moment. "When I return to my woodland, I will do as I once promised, no matter the cost."

* * *

Tauriel rode back to Edoras with a gentle smile gracing her lips, her back ramrod straight even as it ached with every jostle the horse made.

Theoden was still carefully ignoring her. She was too tired to fully concern herself with why, though she saw a gleam in his eyes that was not particularly welcome. A small piece of her wondered if he was scared of her.

She sorely regretted losing her control so badly. The sight of the traitorous elf had unsettled her deeply. And yet, now that he was dead - now that they were all dead - the itch she had thought would have disappeared was still begging to be scratched. She did not like the sensation.

Speaking with Treebeard again after so long had lifted her spirits somewhat. There was a fresh blush to the world around her and a gentle hand upon her shoulder, invisible and nonexistent though it was.

He had saved her from herself, even though she had not known it for a long time - and had not even fully remembered until she had looked upon him once more.

Audriel had looked at her with gem-like eyes when she had returned - beautiful, yet stone-cold.

An actual hand on her shoulder made her jump and try to grasp at her weapons, before realizing that it was - _and of course_ , she thought - Legolas.

"How did the Ent know you?" he asked quietly. There was a undercurrent to his words that warned her this was not just an idle question designed to craft a conversation between them.

"It is not a tale I wish to relive," she said, her voice steady, and though she did not know it her eyes flashed bright, almost in warning.

* * *

 _The woods were dark, the air heavy. She fell against the tree trunk, gasping, her body numb. Black and white spots danced before her eyes, and a smile tilted the corners of her mouth up. The trees creaked and groaned in the wind, sending her body swaying as she moved with it. She sighed, settling back against the trunk, waiting for loss of blood to take effect._

 _The call to the forest was singing stronger than the sea._

 _Her skin was humming._

 _She wanted to laugh and dance and weep._

 _But there was not enough time..._

 _Soon, the light faded around her, leaving her world dark and empty._

 _She fell with a smile on her face, safe with the knowledge that she would die in the forest she loved so dearly._

 _And unknown to her, as she fell, arms caught her - leafy, moss-covered arms, and the great Ent looked down at her face. All around them, Fangorn Forest - the woodland that looked so very much like Mirkwood at times - rustled, whispering, exclaiming over the fact that they had at long last found someone to help them._

 _"Now, then," Treebeard croaked. "What do we propose to do with her?"_

* * *

"Tonight," Theoden-king roared, "we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country. Hail the victorious dead!"

And the crowd screamed in vehement agreement, a single word pouring from a hundred throats. _"Hail!"_

The noise lessened somewhat, reduced to nothing more than loud chatter.

Legolas watched rather impassively, trying his best not to wince at the sheer amount of sound.

Ale was being splashed into mugs and handed out, the smell altogether far too strong for his taste. He was not one to drink, even of the finest wines, though he could understand the wish to drown the past and present in drink.

His eyes flicked across the crowd.

The men were rowdy. He looked briefly for any hint of the women Tauriel had led into battle, but found none, which he thought perhaps a bit odd. Tauriel herself stood almost directly across from him, on the other side of the room, her eyebrows pulled together so sharply they were almost meeting in the middle.

She looked disconcertingly like Lord Elrond, when the light hit her face right, and her bright hair was not quite so visible.

He forced himself not to move towards her and inquire yet again how the Ent of Fangorn had known her so well. He still itched to understand her ties to the woodland - or perhaps woodlands.

The steeliness of her face when she had responded -calmly, coolly - had warned him not to push any further.

Abruptly, a mug was pushed into his hand, and a voice was shouting in his ear.

"No pauses; no spills!" Eomer - yes, that was his name - finished, and splashed more liquid into the mug.

"And no regurgitation," Gimli added.

Legolas peered down into the mug. Ale slopped over the sides and onto the floor. His nose wrinkled ever so slightly. "So it's a drinking game?"

"Aye!" everyone else around them roared.

He exhaled gently, bracing himself. He knew that he could likely drink a barrel of this liquor and not be affected by it in the least. "Very well, then."

Gimli grinned somewhat nastily. "Last one standing wins."

* * *

Silver moonlight reflected off the keen edge of the blade as she stared at it, watching as the slightly curved hilt glimmered in the pale light.

Slowly, Audriel lowered the blade to her bared chest, looking down and watching dispassionately as the blade slid across the skin, leaving a three-inch, vertical strip of red that quickly began to well with blood. Three other cuts - now nothing more than ridges of raised and discolored skin - marred the skin in between her breasts.

For a long moment, she closed her eyes.

 _One - mouth opened wide in a wordless scream, and a small child watching with tears streaming down their face. "Please don't kill mamma."_

 _Two - A face, darkly handsome, but twisted, with a scar tracing its way down from one ear. A blade in her own hand, poised to throw, but instead of hitting its target it sunk, quivering, into the wall behind him and he was gone._

 _Three - a woman, sneering, hair white and wild around her face. "You are too weak. You always have been." And she eased back the tension on the bow and wept, because she_ was _._

 _And four - an arrow stabbed upwards to pierce a heart._

Audriel raised her head calmly, smearing crushed herbs over the cut to help the wounds heal, donning her clothing quickly. There was no hint of pain in her eyes.

But the blade wavered ever so slightly in her hand, and then she wiped it on her belt and sheathed it.

She whispered to herself - of promises, burning recollections of what she should have done and what she vowed to do in the future.

She did not yet know that, by the time all was said and done, the four scars would have more than tripled in number.

* * *

Laughter.

So much of it, and Tauriel wanted dearly to be able to join in. Yet, the sounds were sticking in her throat, and when she tried to speak no words came out.

She kept reliving Wormtongue, Saruman, and Esnilleth's deaths.

Try as she might, she could not push the images into the recesses of her mind.

Her eyes strayed to the other side of the room, settling upon Legolas and Gimli.

They, at least, looked happy.

"What shall we drink to?" the men all around them were roaring. "What shall we drink to?"

And then another shouted, "To victory!"

"To victory!" they all bellowed.

Tauriel's brow creased slightly as she hesitated, then moved towards them. Gimli lifted his mug, grinning madly before chugging its contents without pause.

She opened her mouth.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

Felt much like a fool.

And then -

"May I join you?" she finally asked.

* * *

 ***rubs hand together* Ooooh, this is going to be fun. ;P My apologies if Tauriel seemed a bit out of character in this chapter, but do remember that most of the time we're seeing her through Audriel's eyes.  
I think we're all looking forward to the next chapter, haha! I'll have it up ASAP!**

 **Until next time!**


	39. Fight or Flight

**Update time! Yay!**

 **Guest, neverandalways, and guest, it's included in this chapter! :) Hope it lives up to your expectations!**  
 **starlitstarbrit, thank you!**  
 **Guest - thanks! I admit I am not always the best at writing romance and such, but I have been trying to pace it out in a way that, to me, feels more realistic than just throwing them together and all that, LOL. Welcome to the slowest burn in the history of Middle-Earth fanfiction (I'm sure it's not, but it feels that way at times!).**  
 **Warriorheart5, thank you so much for taking the time to leave not just one but two reviews! 0_o *applauds all the lovely readers* I am so glad you enjoyed it, and hopefully this chapter fulfills a few expectations. :) Sadly we will not see any drunken elves, but I do have an absolutely wonderful scene written for the future that I cannot wait to share with y'all.**  
 **jana349, thank you! She certainly does her best!**  
 **xXx3LegTaur4Evr, I do so love the Ents! They will continue to play a part in the story, and I look forward to revealing what that is. *rubs hands together***

 **Anyways, I'll let y'all get to it. :) Thank you, my lovely readers, for sticking with me through it all!**

* * *

A heartbeat passed, and then Gimli raised his mug of ale high. "Good lass!" he bellowed, and Tauriel wondered how much he had already had to drink.

Someone slid another mug towards her without further ceremony, and she got the impression that she had been accepted into their little game.

Tauriel stared down into the mug, noting the way the liquid had formed a slight foam over the top.

For a brief moment, she wondered how much it would actually take to well and truly make her forget everything, but quickly pushed her thoughts to the back of her mind and lifted the mug, her lip half-curling in distaste.

"Very well, then," she murmured. "Shall we begin?"

"Aye!" Gimli crowed, and without any further ado began gulping down the contents of his mug, the liquid spilling from his lips and down across his beard.

Tauriel hesitated, then followed suit, albeit without the excess spillage. The liquid slid down her throat, tingling slightly, and she gagged.

Setting the mug down, she saw Legolas and Gimli do the same, refills pushed into their hands moments later, and then they were all swallowing the ale down as fast as they could.

The ale had been heavily watered down - thankfully, otherwise half of the men in the room would have been brawling over games of cards - and therefore was not quite as nasty as she had been expecting. That being said, she would have taken any of the elvish wines over the ale, at any time.

"Here, here. It's the dwarves that go swimming with little, hairy women," Gimli was explaining to someone from in between massive gulps.

"I think I feel something," Legolas murmured, glancing at Tauriel with a decidedly amused glint in his eyes. One eyelid slid down in a conspiratorial wink, and Tauriel forced herself not to gape at him.

 _Has he taken leave of his senses?_ she wondered, and then remembered.

It was something of a joke among the elves of the Greenwood, or at least had been. Once, they had granted a safe-haven to a group of men - the leader of whom had saved one of the more prominent elven-lord's life several years before - and allowed them access to the Elvenking's somewhat infamous celebrations.

The group of travelers had drunken themselves under the tables within a half-hour, for the elven wines were potent, and so the elves had joined in, declaring that the drink was "affecting them", daring the men onwards as they promised that they were surely almost overtaken by the affects of the alcohol.

Tauriel had not been present - had not even been in the Greenwood at the time - but had heard great tales of the traveler's love for - and ability to successfully drink great amounts of - the wines, and how the Elvenking had wished he had not opened a cask of one of his oldest and finest wines.

"Yes," Legolas continued musingly. "A slight tingle in my fingertips."

She allowed a smile to curve her lips, just barely.

"I think it's affecting me," she said in unison with the grey-eyed elf.

They both chuckled quietly.

"What did I say?" Gimli drawled, sounding quite drunk, completely oblivious to the fact that they were leading him on. "He can't hold his liquor."

He took another gulp, leaning back in his chair.

Abruptly, his eyes crossed.

He stilled.

The mug fell from his hand.

Tauriel winced, her body tensing in preparation for what she knew would surely follow.

The dwarf tumbled backwards, his body hitting the floor with a resounding thump.

Tauriel thought Legolas might have grimaced in sympathy, but was not sure.

"Game over," Legolas said evenly, placing his mug onto the table.

Tauriel briefly considered demanding that they continue, but chances were they would both become ill due to the sheer quantity of liquid rather than the alcohol in their bloodstream.

"Another time," Legolas promised, guessing at her thoughts.

She nodded. "Yes. Another time."

 _When we have returned to the woodland we once called home, and war has been left in the past._

The words flitted through her head, but she left them unsaid.

She smiled easily, allowing her lips to curve into a grin, and turned, disappearing into the crowd.

* * *

 _"What is pain?"_

 _Circles, endless circles as they moved in half-crouches, and her muscles were starting to burn and ache but she knew she_ could not move _._

 _"It is a figment of your imagination."_

 _Eyes watching the lithe shuffling of her feet, because when she lunged there would be no_ time _-_

 _"Look at_ me _!"_

 _Words like the crack of a whip._

 _She jumped, and lifted her gaze, the blade in her hand gripped ever so slightly harder._

 _"_ No _."_

 _Her eyes flickered to the ground once again. "I am sorry."_

 _She was not, but she did not have to say what she truly felt._

 _"You aren't."_

 _But of course_ she _always knew, because she knew everything everyone else wanted to hide._

 _"You don't know that."_

 _A huff of laughter. She could almost imagine it rattled the leaves in the trees above them._

 _"When your daughter is grown, you will teach her this, and she will dance through the fire and come out stronger than before."_

 _She snarled. "I will not have a daughter."_

 _Laughter. Deceptively,_ disgustingly _sweet._

 _Gildyril smiled, her ashen hair swirling around her face, and lunged, and suddenly there was a ribbon-red slash across her shoulder and a rush of pain._

 _Audriel cried out, falling back, clutching at her shoulder and biting down on the inside of her mouth, because she would not cry ever again._

 _"You will have a daughter. She will be like you in many ways, but unlike you - " Gildyril threw the knife in her left hand, watching with satisfaction as it sank through the layer of armor and into the fleshy skin on Audriel's upper arm, penetrating deep enough to cause immense pain but not enough to cut through the muscling - "she will not be_ weak _!"_

 _Audriel gritted her teeth and bit her lip until it bled, but she did not cry, and as she jerked the blade out the pain barely registered. "We will both be stronger than_ you _!"_

 _Gildyril grinned. "How do you know?"_

 _Audriel sent the knife spinning back towards the elf. "The same way I know you will die before you see your work completed."_

 _The color drained from Gildyril's face. "You lie."_

 _Audriel grinned nastily, taking dark satisfaction at the look upon her aunt's face. "But you know when I lie, don't you? And I'm not lying now." Blood was seeping across the cloth of her tunic, but was ignored. "Perhaps you taught me a bit too well. And the irony of it all is that, when the time comes, you will beg for death, because_ you will know you were wrong _."_

* * *

Eowyn ducked a raised mug of ale, eyes fixed upon Aragorn's face. His jaw was set, his eyes fixed steadily upon something she could not yet see.

She paused for a moment, biting her lip, but then moved forward once more, holding the cup outwards in offering. " _Westu Aragorn hál_ ," she murmured.

He met her gaze with some surprise, jerked from his thoughts, but nodded in greeting. His hands reached out to take the mug from her, and though she would not have dared to admit it, she savored the feeling of the rough callouses that covered his hands as they brushed over her own skin.

His eyes locked with hers for a long moment as he drank, but then he turned and strode away.

She tamped down the swell of disappointment in her gut, her eyes following his form until he was lost in the crowd.

A hand dropped onto her shoulder without warning, and she nearly leaped in surprise.

Theoden stepped to her side, his brow slightly creased.

"Uncle," she murmured, feeling rather embarrassed, and remembering Tauriel's razor-sharp warning that if she did not take care there would be no time for goodbyes. A moment passed, and then she whispered, "I am sorry."

Theoden nodded, his face fallen into deep lines at the sides of his mouth and eyes. He looked much older than she had remembered, and realized that she oft times forgot he carried the weight of his country and now a war upon his shoulders.

"Fear not," the king said. "You are still young, and in your youth you will make many mistakes." He offered her a lopsided smile. "Goodness knows I did. All that matters is that you learn from them." He clapped her on the shoulder, and with a jolt she realized it was more like a gesture he would have once given his son. The thought filled her with an unexpected warmth, and a deep undefinable sadness. "I am happy for you," Theoden added. "He is an honorable man."

Eowyn met his gaze boldly. "You are both honorable men."

Thedoen shook his head. "It was not Theoden of Rohan who led our people to victory."

Eowyn's eyes widened, shock coloring her features at the admittance.

He sighed, a hand upon her shoulder once again. "Ah, don't listen to me," he said, taking her surprise for confusion. "You are young, and tonight is for you."

He turned and began moving away. She did not watch him go.

"Come with me," someone murmured into her ear abruptly, and Eowyn flinched, finding herself being tugged along by a hand at her elbow.

Stumbling to a stop, she lifted her skirts out of the way, crossing her arms in irritation as she turned to face whomever had forced her to go with them.

She stopped with her mouth half-open, a scowl flitting across her features before vanishing. "Tauriel?"

Tauriel returned the gesture, crossing her own arms. "Eowyn."

"What are you doing?" Eowyn blurted, feeling off-balance and rather as if there was something she should have remembered but had instead forgotten.

"Listen to me," Tauriel said, her voice low and steady. "I fear I should have told you this long ago, and you will not like what I have to say."

Chills raced down Eowyn's spine. "What is it?" she half-whispered, dreading the answer that would surely come.

"Stay away from Aragorn," Tauriel said flatly. "His heart is not -nor will ever be - yours."

Eowyn recoiled, her skin going hot and then cold as Tauriel's words sunk in. Instantly, indignance rose up in the place of her mortification. "You say that only because you fear he will not return your own affections!"

Tauriel cocked her head for a long moment, and Eowyn realized her lips were twitching.

The realization that the elf was trying not to laugh or smile only made the spear in her heart go deeper.

She hung her head, inhaling deeply, and then raised it. There was a steely glint in her eyes and a set to her shoulders when she spoke. "I am sorry. I should not have said that."

"No," Tauriel said somewhat thoughtfully, "you should not have, yet it matters not because I would have seen the truth in your eyes and heart either way." She looked hard at Eowyn for a long moment. "I see Aragorn as a dear friend, no more. But he made a promise, to someone else, and I would not see that promise broken."

Eowyn felt her eyes stinging, and fought bitterly not to let the tears fall. "Does he love her?"

Tauriel smiled gently, without malice. "He does. And she loves him. But Aragorn is an honorable man - sometimes too much so for his own good - and he believes that she should sail with the rest of her kin. If it is best for her, he will care little for his own pain."

"Will she sail?" Eowyn asked, vaguely recognizing the term.

Tauriel's eyes glazed over for a long moment, and then she blinked rapidly. "No. She will not, though Aragorn does not yet know it. He will not know until it is almost too late, I think, and if I had not told you this tonight things could have gone very differently. Already the future is weaving itself another web, and Fate whispers fickle promises in the ears of anyone who is willing to listen." She lunged for Eowyn's wrist without warning. "Draw him close. Keep him as a friend, a dear one, for he is one of the truest souls you will ever meet. But beyond that -" She fell silent for a heartbeat. "I will be watching. Whatever you may believe, Eowyn, he is not the one you will truely love."

Eowyn jerked away, somewhat shaken. "How could you know?" she demanded fiercely.

Tauriel regarded her keenly. "I have seen it," she said simply.

Eowyn swallowed. "Thank you," she whispered. "For telling me, I mean."

And then she turned, her skirts swirling around her legs, her chest burning with some unknown mix of emotions, and ran, though towards what she did not know.

* * *

Gandalf blew a smoke ring, watching as it floated through the air, gradually dispersing.

On a table some feet away from him, Merry and Pippin were dancing, arm in arm, mugs in hand with ale slopping over the sides.

 _"Oh you can search far and wide,  
_ _You can drink the whole town dry,  
_ _But you'll never find a beer so brown  
_ _As the one we drink in our hometown.  
_ _You can drink your fancy ales,  
_ _You can drink 'em by the flagon  
_ _But the only brew for the brave and true-"_

Pippin met the wizard's gaze as he spun, and froze midstep, horror spreading comically over his face.

Mithrandir chuckled quietly from around his pipe.

"Pippin!" Merry hissed, and the other hobbit unfroze.

 _"But the only brew for the brave and true, comes from the Green Dragon!"_ the two roared, lifting their mugs and drinking until there was nothing left.

"Thank you!" Merry called, bowing low. "I win!"

Pippin followed suit. "Thank you, thank you!"

The wizard laughed, clapping slowly.

"No news of Frodo?" Aragorn asked, coming to stand at his side.

"No," Gandalf said heavily. "No word. Nothing."

Aragorn nodded. "But we have time. Every day, Frodo moves closer to Mordor."

Mithrandir turned to look at him. "But do we know that?"

"What does your heart tell you?" the Ranger murmured.

"That Frodo is alive. _Yes_. Yes, he is alive."

A moment passed.

"I will ask Tauriel to search for them both," Aragorn said slowly. "And if she fails and we truly feel we must know, I can ask it of her mother." The distaste in his voice towards the latter was thinly veiled.

"No," Mithrandir said fircely. "No, Tauriel cannot be asked to search that land of Shadow. Sauron is ever watching, and he has been trying to gain control of one of her line for far too long already. Ask Audriel if you must, but do not take her word as fact."

Aragorn nodded somewhat grimly. "I have learnt that lesson well already." He paused. "Why does Sauron want one of Tauriel's blood so dearly?"

Gandalf removed his pipe from his mouth. "You saw what happened when the Uruk-hai dared to venture into Fangorn Forest. Those trees are without discipline. If they had been under orders from a leader, they would have been almost impenetrable if they so wished it. It is said - there is a legend - that there is a tree in what was once the Greenwood that Yavanna herself nurtured until it was tall and strong, and that the one whom that tree accepts as an equal gains control over the majority of the woodland. Without the obedience of that one tree, though, the other trees will remain still and silent."

"And Tauriel's line is known for their affinity towards that woodland."

"Aye. Sauron has long been hoping to harness their power, but each time has failed. They are quick to turn to Shadow, but are nearly impossible to bend to another's will."

"You have met many of that blood?"

"Indeed. There was only ever one who truly put the forest at risk, and she was locked away before she could do any harm and is now dead."

There was silence for a time as Aragorn processed that.

"Thank you," he finally said, "for telling me. I have wondered for some time now why Tauriel's presence here was so significant to you."

Gandalf inclined his head amiably, and Aragorn moved away.

* * *

Audriel grabbed for her daughter's elbow, eyes glowing, and Tauriel fought down the urge to bolt away.

"Mother," she murmured.

Audriel smiled - truly smiled - and a shred of warmth crept its way into Tauriel's heart.

"If you let me," Audriel said, "I would show you something. It is one of my most treasured memories, and I think it may bring you some happiness."

Tauriel hesitated, her mind spinning through the maze of things she knew she should be considering, but found herself more curious than she would have liked to admit. "I think," she answered slowly, "I would like that."

Green eyes sparkled, warm and welcoming, as Audriel reached for her daughter's hand as if entirely familiar with the action. With such a difference in height, it looked almost as if the two had switched places in regards to their familial position, until one registered the hardness at the corners of their mouths and knew neither had been a child for many a year.

Tauriel had tensed somewhat at the heat of another's skin upon her own, the feeling so foreign she did not quite know what to do with it. She flexed her fingers lightly and found it was not entirely unwelcome, in its own strange way.

She wondered if it would have felt the same, back when she had been young and innocent and unsoiled by the blood that now stained her hands.

Audriel tugged gently, her palm thick with callouses. "Come," she urged, "follow me. I have waited a long time to share this with you."

* * *

 **See, Audriel's not all bad. ;) And not everything is her fault either - I'm sure y'all remember Gildyril?**

 **Hopefully I did the scenes justice. My apologies if this was not quite as lighthearted as you were wanting - as much as I'd like to just wipe the slate clean and let everyone laugh and dance around, reality comes crashing in at some point, haha.**

 **R &R, please!**


	40. Turbulence

**Guys, I'm so sorry I haven't updated sooner - and to top it off, I show up with a crappy chapter that is soooo far below my expectations I trashed the whole thing twice. This chapter just would not come together for me. I knew what I wanted - but somehow a lot of it got lost in translation. Sigh.**

 **Anyways.**

 **annie, thank _you_ for leaving a note. :) I did enjoy writing that scene, and I figured it was about time we all learnt something about why Tauriel is smack-dab in the middle of just about everything right now, LOL. **  
**Warriorheart5, I cannot wait to write that scene! Just imagining a drinking contest between our two favorite elves is highly entertaining.**  
 **guest, Guest, Mia, starlitstarbrit, thank you! :)**  
 **guest, yes, but in time. This fic is a sloowwww burn, to say the least. We will see at least a little something happening by the end of RotK, though.**

 **Make sure to check out the AN at the bottom of this chapter - there's some info there that y'all will probably want to know.**

* * *

"You have tried to repress yourself for a long while now." It was not a question, and Audriel's eyes were glittering in the pale, silvery light. "So much rage and grief, power and the rejection you believe you have received, all of it bottled up inside." She cocked her head. "It is a wonder you have not exploded."

Tauriel scowled. "I do not feel rejected, nor am I ensnared by grief." _And I thought you had something you dearly wished to show me?_

Audriel raised a brow in a wordless but yet stern question.

Her frown deepened. "I have never felt rejected," she amended. She knew that deep down she grieved Boromir, though in her heart she felt he was alive, and she had wept for the terrible destruction of Fangorn Forest.

Audriel leaned forward slightly. " _Liar_."

A spark of Tauriel's temper flared unexpectedly. "I am not lying."

"If not to me, then to yourself. You have felt rejected ever since Thranduil first looked you in the eye and said that you were no one. You had no name, no memory. You felt deep down that they were hiding something, but you had no choice but to smile and nod, because you had lost the very essence of who you were."

Tauriel stared down at her mother, her mouth half-opened to deny it all, but remained wordless.

"Do you remember any of it, now? Of who you were before Thranduil found you and took you in, gracing you with a new name and a new future."

"I remember very little. I do not wish to dwell upon what I once had and then lost."

There was a heartbeat of silence.

"Do you remember my sister at all?"

Aruelle's face flashed before Tauriel's eyes, a gentle smile curving her mouth, the same as and yet so unlike Audriel... _"My sister - Tauriel, she does truly care for you. She has been lost for so long now. Please, for both our sakes - give her a chance. She deserves that at least."_

"I remember that she was very kind. That she looked like you. And I believe she would have wanted me to forgive you and love you as my own kin."

Audriel swallowed hard, and there was a distinct glistening of her eyes that made Tauriel suspect she was fighting back tears. "I - regret - what I said and did to her both before and after you were born. She was pure of heart indeed."

"She saved my life at the cost of her own."

"Yes."

Again there was silence, laced with the bittersweetness of the past.

Tauriel could feel her heartpulses, loud and hard in her chest, and she was strangely scared. She did not know what to do or say, and there was a deep ache in her chest that made her want to reach out to Audriel, yet at the same time she knew that if she did and her mother pushed her away, the hurt would be tenfold worse.

"Come here," Audriel said softly, reaching for both of Tauriel's hands. "Look into my eyes, and let yourself fall. You no longer remember this, but I still do."

* * *

 _The trees were singing. The woodland trembled with their wordless music, and the very earth beneath her feet was humming._

 _Audriel was silent, a tear sliding down her cheek as she threw her head back, arms spread wide. It had been years since she had stood here, in this forest, with nothing but joy and laughter in her heart._

 _Her lips bloomed in a smile, and though it was small and hesitant, her face transformed into eerie beauty. Red hair streamed down her back, rogue strands whipping across her pale cheeks._

 _Slowly, very slowly, she laughed. The sound was rich and melodious, echoing slightly in the softly trembling air._

 _The trees shook with laughter, rumbling gently all around her._

 _Someone else laughed._

 _She froze._

 _The sound was light and gleeful, and she sensed the trees reaching out to it with undisguised welcome._

 _A girl - no, elfling- stepped into view, all awkward leanness and red hair. "Hello," she said, and her voice was husky._

 _She was frozen, motionless._

 _She could not think._

 _Could barely draw in breath._

 _The girl - Tauriel, Seena, her daughter - tilted her head to the side, green eyes curious. "Do I know you?"_

 _She shook herself, air rasping painfully into her lungs. "No," she said harshly, lying straight to her daughter's face. "You don't."_

 _Tauriel moved forward, her steps easy, her face awash with a sudden recollection of her past. "No - I remember you." A pause, and then, "_ Nana _?"_

 _Audriel was silent, clutching at her stomach, her eyes glassy with a sudden sharp pain. "No," she whispered. "Yes. I no longer know."_

 _Seena -_ Tauriel, remember her name is Tauriel, and how did Thranduil know? _-had taken a step backwards, and her face had fallen. "You are not_ nana _," she said, voice low with disappointment. "But you look like her. How?"_

 _Words caught painfully in Audriel's throat. Tell her - tell her - she needs to know, she is your daughter - you have waited so long, and Aruelle is dead..._

 _And yet, there were other words echoing in her mind._

Gildyril.

 _"You will lose her and find her again - oh yes, many times, for the past will always repeat itself - but she will never truly be yours." And then three more, painfully predictable, like the crack of a whip._ "Look at me! _"_

 _"Come here," Audriel finally murmured, her eyes on the twin daggers at her daughter's waist._

 _There was a split second in which Tauriel hesitated, but then she moved forwards, her eyes big and green._

 _"Aye?" she said, so despicably innocent, and it hurt._

 _Audriel hesitated._

 _And then she reached out, drawing the girl closer, looking into eyes that were so much like her own, but were gentle and trusting, and knew that Aruelle had been right._

 _Maybe she always had been._

 _"Your_ nana _knew me once," she said. "We were sisters. I loved her very much. She would have wanted me to do this."_

 _And her hands snaked upwards, pressing hard against Tauriel's temples as the girl squirmed and then went limp._

 _Tears slid down her cheeks - bitter, not salty - and she picked Tauriel up, positioning her gently against a tree trunk._

 _The trees were frantic. Their branches were whipping wildly, the air humming low and hot._

 _She knew then that it was far too late._

 _"I'm sorry," she whispered to the unconscious girl. "I'm so, so sorry. You will not remember anything now, and perhaps one day you will thank me for it." She traced the curve of one sharp cheekbone, and then bent, pressing a gentle kiss to Tauriel's brow. "Aruelle loved you so very much."_

* * *

Tauriel inhaled shakily, breath catching in her throat. "How could you?" she whispered.

Audriel drew back, opening her mouth to answer, but Tauriel was not yet done.

"To remember that - even little bits and pieces, anything - of who I was, of who you and Aruelle were, would have been precious to me. And yet you tore it away from me because you believed your sister would have preferred me to remain ignorant to my past." She closed her eyes. "At least I know why the nightmares stopped so abruptly."

"I am sorry," Audriel said, and there was an earnestness in her tone that made Tauriel pause. "I showed you this because I know it was wrong, but also because I treasured it for many moons. It was the only memory I had of you that had not been spoiled badly. I loved you, Tauriel. I still do. I want to make things right; I want to try and cross the bridge that now lies between us, and yet I do not understand how, for I no longer know who you are."

Tauriel fell silent for a long moment. A part of her still wanted to rage at her mother, to say that she would have preferred to know, but a little voice in the back of her head whispered that she would never truly know _now_ , would she? She gritted her teeth. "Well," she finally said, "perhaps we should try to fix that."

Audriel looked at her in shock, her eyes going wide. Her expression was startlingly vulnerable and almost childish in her moon-shaped face, and then she lifted a hand, cupping Tauriel's cheek. "Thank you."

* * *

Aragorn moved slowly, his footsteps utterly silent, his eyes dark and steady as he reached the fireplace and poked at the dying embers. What was left of the log shifted and crumbled before flaring with golden heat once more.

He turned, pipe in hand, making for the exit once more, but stopped.

Eowyn had half-risen, her eyes reflecting light oddly in the darkness. "What time is it?" she murmured.

"Not yet dawn," Aragorn answered easily, and made as if to leave.

"Wait."

She had grabbed for his hand, and his entire body tensed. He knew full-well that what she sought of him was something he would never be able to give her, and the physical contact made him slightly uneasy.

"Aye?"

"I dreamed I saw a great wave," the girl said, and her voice had risen slightly in its intensity, "climbing over green lands and above the hills. I stood upon the brink. It was utterly dark in the abyss before my feet. A light shone behind me, but I could not turn. I could only stand there" - her voice broke - "waiting."

There was silence for a moment. He could feel her pulse in the hand that he still held, pounding away frantically.

"Night changes many thoughts," he finally said. "Sleep, Eowyn. Sleep while you can."

Gently, he pried her fingers away from his own and slipped away.

The night was cool and clear, except for the blanket of barely-visible clouds above them.

Legolas turned to face him, jaw set. "Aragorn."

Aragorn nodded in greeting and went to stand at the elf's side.

"The stars are veiled," Legolas murmured. "Something stirs in the east. A sleepless malice." He glanced at the Ranger's face. "The Eye of the Enemy is moving."

* * *

The shout came in the very beginnings of dawn, when the sky was streaked with silver and the breeze was gentle all around them.

Tauriel jolted upright, jerked out of the deepest sleep she had had in a long while, and was startled to realize that she was back-to-back with her mother. Audriel, too, had awoken.

"Pippin!" Merry was crying, and in the background there was a screech of pain, loud and hoarse.

They both rose, rushing for the room opposite to their own. Tauriel's blood was pounding loud in her ears, adrenaline coursing through her body.

She came to a halt as she pushed through the door and saw the hobbit on the floor, both hands wrapped around the palantir, his body stretched tight as a bow string.

Legolas and Aragorn burst through the door on the other side of the room, racing towards Pippin even as his eyes rolled back in his head, the whites bloodshot.

Audriel drew in a shaky breath, her hand suddenly at Tauriel's arm, clutching hard enough to send little jolts of pain skittering across her skin.

"He is here," she breathed, and chills danced up and down Tauriel's spine.

"Someone get Mithrandir," Legolas said, his voice firm and commanding.

"I will," Aragorn said, and disappeared back out the door at half-run.

"No," Audriel snapped, her voice rising somewhat. "The wizard may be too late."

 _I see you._

Tauriel gasped, a scream catching in her throat a half-second later. Everything was burning, burning gold, and her blood was boiling within her very veins.

"No," she whimpered, and it was her turn to clutch at Audriel's arm.

Invisible fingers were scraping at her neck, tracing her scars - clawed, ice-cold fingers.

 _I see you._

She jerked forward, spilling the contents of her stomach up onto the floor in a single heave, and the great Eye - no longer just in her dreams - seemed to loom above them all.

"Someone do something!" Legolas was shouting in the background, and there was an edge of panic to his tone that had not been there before. She would have taken time to wonder at it had she not been crawling forward, towards the palantir, still clutched in Pippin's hands, for _something_ was pushing her ceaselessly towards the orb.

 _I have been looking for a long time now._

Audriel was bone-white, her lips moving soundlessly as she stared down at the two, her body jerking rhythmically, a hand outstretched and claw-like. "Don't let her touch it," was all she managed to spit through clenched teeth, and Legolas lunged forward, hands grabbing at Tauriel's shoulders.

And still no one had touched Pippin, who had ceased to shake, little whimpers of pain emitting from between his lips.

"Help!" Merry screamed. "Gandalf, help! Someone help them!"

 _Did you really think to hide from me forever?_

She choked on the bile in the back of her throat and tried to pull herself away to no avail.

A door cracked loudly against the walls as Aragorn entered, Gandalf right behind him, a cloak in his hands.

With a burst of speed that no one would have previously expected, he rushed forward, grabbing the palantir away from Pippin with cloth-covered hands and wrapping it securely in the lengths of the cloak.

Pippin fainted, eyes rolling even further back into his head as he crumpled bonelessly. Tauriel halted her stilted movements, panting, her knee planted firmly in the middle of her own vomit, feeling utterly humiliated.

"Pippin!" Merry was murmuring, picking the hobbit's head up and placing it his lap.

"Fool of a Took!" Gandalf thundered, his brow creased in anger. He pushed Merry away, bending over Pippin, whose eyes were staring blankly. The wizard chanted something under his breath, fingers tracing gentle patterns upon the hobbit's forehead.

Pippin jolted, then sputtered for breath, his previous vacant expression replaced by utter terror. "Gandalf, forgive me," he whispered, cringing away.

"Look at me," the wizard commanded. "What did you see?"

Audriel had finally ceased her soundless chanting, her skin drained of all color as she stepped forward, her hands gentle.

"Come," she whispered. "Get up."

Tauriel nodded wordlessly, feeling weak and childish.

"Get her out of here," Aragorn said to Audriel tersely, his skin stretched taught across the bones of his face. "Get her away and get liquids into her. Whatever just happened, she will doubtless need her strength."

"What did you see?" Gandalf demanded again.

"A tree. There was a white tree, in a courtyard of stone. It was dead," Pippin whimpered. "The city was burning."

"Minas Tirith? Is that what you saw?" the wizard asked, softening somewhat.

"I saw . . . I saw _him_! I can hear his voice in my head, still..." The hobbit's voice cracked and fell.

"And what did you tell him?" There was silence. " _Speak_!"

"He asked my name," Pippin said weakly. "I didn't answer, and he hurt me, and -"

"What did you tell him about Frodo and the Ring?" Mithrandir snapped.

Pippin glanced upwards, confusion painted over his face. "Nothing. I swear. But - I - I told him about _her_ , because I didn't think it would do any harm and it just hurt so badly-"

Tauriel had frozen; every eye was upon her once again.

" _No_ ," she said weakly.

"I'm sorry," Pippin whispered. "I'm so sorry."

* * *

 **What I mainly wanted to tell y'all is that I will not be updating again until after the new year. This will give me time to polish pre-existing chapter (and I know we're all looking at this one in particular), and fine-tune the plot for later in the story. I want to take a step back and really think about how the characters would be inclined to act.**  
 **Starting now, chapters will also be getting a good bit longer - somewhere between 6,000 and 10,000 words compared to my usual 3,000. I hope y'all don't mind that. :) This way, we'll be able to cover more ground in a shorter period of time.**

 **Anyways. I am certainly not expecting rave reviews for this chapter (I will continue to try and improve upon it) but I do look forward to sharing the next chapter with you guys. We have a lot of pretty big scenes coming up! Are there any particular things you all would like to see? Confrontations between particular characters, ect.? We'll be seeing more of Arwen, Elrond, and the Elvenking in the coming chapters for sure.**

 **I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season!**


	41. Fire & Blood

**Alright, y'all, I'm back. With a very long, very strange, somewhat AU chapter. I was quite torn about this one, as it is something of a pivotal point in this fic, and I was a bit worried I'm focusing too much on Tauriel, by herself. I will be trying to split the chapters from now on, with flashbacks, and multiple character POVs.**

 **Beyond that, we passed seventy - _SEVENTY_ \- follows last chapter, and nearly fifty favorites. Holy cow, guys. 0_o Thank you all so much for sticking with me so far. Every little comment, PM, follow/fave, ect., warm my heart (and usually make my day) and I am so lucky to have such amazing readers. :) Love y'all! *hugs to all***  
 **On to the lovely reviews!**

 **hobbitJunki and starlitstarbrit, thank you, and same to you! :)**  
 **Guest, WickedGreene13, pharlan25, thanks! I hope this chapter doesn't stray too far beyond what y'all are used to, and that I am able to keep my writing quality up in future chapters.**  
 **Guest - awww, thank you so much! You kind of made me tear up there. :') I am so honored that you enjoy my little fic that much.**  
 **Angel4Ever, he's certainly doing his best, though he's not quite sure what to do at this point.**

 **Now, fair warning - this chapter is long.**  
 **And dense.**  
 **And slightly weird. Maybe even very weird. And pay close attention to Tauriel's scenes - at this point, y'all should have most of the pieces to put the puzzle together. I just haven't straight out said anything yet. :)**

* * *

"No," Tauriel said again, and there was a emptiness to her voice that sent chills racing down Legolas's spine.

"I'm sorry," Pippin moaned. "I didn't think it was important. Didn't think you were that important."

"You didn't think at all!" Audriel fairly shouted, and though she was not looking at him Legolas could almost feel the electricity sparking from her in a warning that they would all do well to heed. _"How could you?"_

"I'm sorry," the hobbit whimpered, and it seemed to be all he could say.

Audriel opened her mouth as if to speak again, and Legolas had an indescribable certainty that there was more to this than anyone was letting on.

He stepped forward. "Enough," he said firmly. Although he tried to hide it, his words were undershot with worry, and as Audriel whipped around to glare at him he knew that she had heard it.

"Stay out of this, princeling," she snarled. "We are dealing with matters that you are incapable of understanding."

"Audriel!" Gandalf's voice cracked out like a whip, and immediately there was silence.

Tauriel's lips were moving silently. "Mithrandir," she said abruptly, and the wizard looked at her in question. "He is still here," she continued, her voice falling somewhat.

"No," the wizard responded flatly. "He cannot see through the covering upon the palantir."

"I know what I feel!" Tauriel snapped, her temper flaring in a way Legolas had not seen since she was quite young. Contrasting with the solemness of her person, it was - _strange_.

"And I know that unless he has a connection with you in some way - which I doubt - you should be unable to feel his presence."

"Then you are wrong."

The words came, entirely unexpected, from Pippin.

They all turned to look at him, and Legolas wondered how the hobbit could possibly know of what he spoke.

"If she says she feels - him - still then we should listen," he said, his brow still beaded with sweat, his eyes wide and scared. "I -I can feel his - _fingers_? - on my skin every time I take a breath. He grabbed me round the neck, and it burned me badly, though there is no sign of it now."

Legolas frowned at that, glancing around their group.

"I stand with Master Pippin," Aragorn said abruptly, speaking for the first time in several minutes. "I have seen proof of Tauriel's foresight before. If she says that Sauron's presence is still here, I believe she speaks truly."

Gandalf closed his eyes, fingers tightening upon his staff, clearly not wanting to accept what the others were saying. "If he truly is here, then none of us are safe," he said heavily. "Though it pains me to admit it, I would prefer that he still have a hold upon Tauriel's mind rather than be able to look upon us and watch every move we make."

Legolas tensed - the urge to reach out and take Tauriel by the hand and just run, away from this all, to where they would be safe, was mounting steadily.

It was, of course, little more than nonsense. Even if he did deign to abandon his comrades and the war against Sauron and the Shadow, Tauriel most certainly would not consent to be dragged along with no say in the matter. She would stay and fight to her last breath, with no thought to her own mental and physical health and safety.

Though her stuborness and complete and utter conviction that, once she started something, she would see it through until the end was admirable in its own way, it also blinded her to reality - and the fact that at times it was better to run away and live to fight another day.

It was a mentality that his father had drilled into him even at a young age. His grandfather, Oropher, had been fool enough to ignore that particular piece of advice, and had gotten himself killed during the Battle of Dagorlad, as well as most of his army.

The remaining elves had limped home to their newly-crowned Elvenking once Sauron had been defeated. Thranduil had taken great care to tell the story to his son often - and always there was a hint of bitterness in his voice, for his father had left him far too soon, Oropher's recklessness endangering the entire battle and leaving his kingdom significantly weakened.

Shaking himself, Legolas focused his attention back on the conversation. Tauriel's eyes had darkened, her hands trembling hard as she lifted them closer to her face.

"Strange," she said, voice distant. "My fingers are tingling again."

And without warning, she sagged against her mother, sending Audriel staggering in an effort to keep her feet.

When Legolas had finally managed to push all the others aside, and was staring down into her blazingly green eyes that were still wide open, all he could think was that before too long, her luck was going to start running out.

* * *

Reality was a distant, far-fetched notion. Swirls of grey snaked their way across the edges of her vision, sending the other, far more vivid colors skittering away.

Vaguely, she was aware of voices.

But they were not as loud as the words in her head, and so they were drowned out, swept away by the great torrent of whispers and shouts alike.

There was a hand on her arm - no, hands - and she knew that she should be concerned for her well-being, seeing as she had no control over her body, but somehow the amount of effort speaking would take did not seem worth it.

Her skin was on fire.

She sucked in another breath, feeling her lungs being scalded by air that surely was not that hot in reality, and fought against the awful burn.

She could no longer see.

Voices - too many to count battered at her ears, but she knew that they were not real.

She coughed, painfully loud and rough, and a sudden rush of noise - real noise, real voices - made her muscles tense.

"- no more -"

 _"I will not lose her again!"_

"Enough!"

"How could you _possibly_ assume to understand -"

Silence.

She swallowed, reaching for words, because the little voice in the back of her head - the one that was always gentle, the one she knew she should have listened to more - was whispering that nothing was more important than this.

 _Fight_.

She floundered.

Gulped air into aching lungs and pushed the bile in the back of her throat down.

And finally spoke, though she was so tired, and everything hurt and she could no longer see.

"Mother. He has me." Her hand reached out, scrabbling for something familiar. "He knows what I saw . . . and now he seeks my death." There was something wet sliding down her cheek - a tear, she thought, but when had she started crying? "Don't let him take me . . . please. I have to tell you something important."

* * *

Audriel whirled away from him, racing to her daughter's side, and Gandalf rose as fast as his aching bones allowed.

"Seena," Audriel whispered, and they could see Tauriel's eyes rolling wildly underneath her closed lids.

"Mother," she rasped.

Gandalf reached for Audriel's shoulder, and her other hand snaked out, slapping him away. "Audriel," he murmured, a hand on Tauriel's forehead. Her skin was scalding underneath his palm, so much so that he wondered how she had not yet burned to dust.

He did not quite know what to do. Even though his vast years of experience lent him much knowledge, he was lost.

Was always lost, when it came to fire and blood mingling together until they were one.

Her pulse was rising sharply - he could almost hear it, almost did not need the assistance of two fingers at her neck.

Audriel was breathing rapidly, small spasms working their way across her skin, and the wizard wondered exactly what she was doing.

"He has me," Tauriel said, her voice catching and tearing painfully on every other word. Her fingers stretched, grasping at Audriel's arm and then wrapping tightly around it. "He knows what I saw - and now he seeks my death."

Audriel opened her mouth as if to speak, her eyes big and glassy, and the wizard noted with distant surprise that she was _crying_.

A tear rolled down her cheek and splashed onto Tauriel's face, the impact sending small, shard-like droplets of liquid spattering across her skin.

Tauriel opened her mouth again, and there was a look of distant confusion on her face. "Don't let him take me . . . please. I have to tell you something important."

"No," Audriel whispered.

Gandalf hissed as Tauriel's free hand cracked out against his face, sending him stumbling backwards, the blow hurting far less than the realization that this truly was the worst he had ever seen her.

Her body was arching against the back of the chair they had placed her upon, muscles standing out in harsh contrast across her skin as her eyes rolled back and forth underneath closed lids.

Audriel choked wordlessly low in her throat, her own hand tightening around Tauriel's fingers. "Do something," she half-shouted, and Gandalf found himself glad that Audriel had banished the others from the chamber.

Memories raced through his mind, bright as if they were but hours old.

 _Laughter and tears and red-hot rage that threatened to destroy them all._

What had he done then?

What would he do now?

What was wisdom worth, when you could no longer rely upon it?

What had it ever been worth, when dealing with these cursed elfs who were more Shadow than Light?

And where had he gone wrong?

Why did he no longer trust what his dearest companions said?

How could he fail so miserably?

He straightened, leaning heavily on his staff.

"Audriel," he said, low and tired and scared that this truly could be the end. "Listen to me, and listen closely. Sauron is attacking her mind. You must find her, must dive into her conciousness, and try to free her from him. It is the only way I know."

"No."

The word came, flat and hard, from Tauriel.

Audriel hissed outwards through teeth clenched hard enough Gandalf could hear them crack ever so slightly.

"No," Tauriel said again, and her voice was clearing somewhat. "Leave me be. If you try to help me, mother, he will take you too. He is strong. No, I will fight alone, now. I cannot ask it of you to stand with me, for if I lose this battle, you must help them." She seemed to be gathering her strength, her eyes still closed, her body still painfully upright, and then words burst from her like a dam had finally broken. "Mother, Mithrandir, you must see to it that the shards of Narsil are reforged into a new blade, and that it is given to Aragorn. That which was once forsaken shall be forgiven, and a heart that did not believe in itself will become strong. The fight shall be taken to Sauron, and if I do not wake, you must ride to Rivendell. Arwen will help you - the Evenstar has fallen. Would that my dream had not come true. And yet - perhaps this will lead to great happiness, for in the end the paths that seem the most convuluted can be the quickest road home." She exhaled shakily. "You must let me go. There is nothing you can do. And - tell Pippin this is not his fault. He was right to be curious, and in time all this would have come to pass anyways. Perhaps it is even better this way." She let her hand fall from Audriel's arm. " _Namaarie tenna' anoron."_

Audriel shook silently, teeth bared, and then staggered backwards.

Gandalf felt a sudden surge of pity for her.

The look in her eyes - the sudden realization that this truly could be the end, the brokenness that he had seen once before long ago in eyes of the same color - was haunting.

She trembled violently, sinking against the harsh stone walls, her chest heaving in silent sobs that seemed to tear her very body apart.

"I am sorry," the wizard said hoarsely.

He was.

Deeply so.

Audriel clearly cared little, for she tossed him a glare filled with the deepest loathing he had seen in a long while.

Mithrandir sighed, his heart aching. He inhaled deeply, leaning his weight against the dependable sturdiness of his staff. He could not dwell upon Tauriel any longer, even though he dearly wished to.

There was nothing he could do.

* * *

It was as if she was dreaming again, and were it not for the fire licking at her feet and the spattering of blood across her cheeks she would have thought it was indeed nothing more than another one of her strange, convoluted visions.

She stood in silence.

The emptiness stretched on and on, into infinity.

She waited.

Waited, half-tensed, for the attack that surely would come, for the Dark Lord had surely not forced himself past her mental shields and revealed himself for nothing.

There was an abrupt _whoosh_ around her, and then a figure stepped forward - covered in dark, plated armor and with a spiked helmet upon its head, she fully expected that it was Sauron.

What she was not expecting was for him to remove the helmet and smile at her.

She stiffened - she hated illusions, hypocritical though it was - and forced herself not to turn and run out into the great expanses of nothing.

Sauron offered her a half smile, kneeling and placing his helmet at his feet.

The fact that his face was even mildly attractive, much less vaguely elven, made her want to vomit.

A small part of her mind whispered with unusual certainty that this was his fair form, the one he had taken very, very long ago, but she was too preocupied with the bile rising in the back of her throat to fully notice.

"Hail, _tinu en' i' taure,_ " the Dark Lord offered mildly.

Tauriel flinched, hard, at his voice and the underlying meaning in his words.

Hated that she had done so.

Resented that she was even standing here, in what was clearly his domain, though it was her own blasted mind he had invaded.

"Get _out_ ," she snarled.

A pale brow arched upwards. "Not very welcoming, are you?"

" _Really_ ," she said, sarcasm fairly dripping from the word, and she was glad that it hid the fear that was swelling dangerously fast in her chest, for this was not what she had expected, and she feared she was truly lost.

"Perhaps it is to be expected. I must say, I was not expecting you to come quite so willingly." There was an implied question in his words that she ignored.

 _"Get out of my head."_

"No, not quite yet. It is time we had a conversation, you and I. You see, you have something I want - need, even - though I doubt you even realize what it is."

"Leave -"

He lifted a hand, and she was silenced mid-sentence. "No, let me speak. I knew your great-grandmother - was she? Yes, she was - quite well. She was an _interesting_ thing. So unlike her brother, and full of fire and a thirst for the things that had always been just out of reach. So we made a deal, she and I - she would give me all that was left of herself and her strange heritage, and I would give her power. Unfortunately, she did not hold to her end of the deal. You see, she was my creation. My _masterpiece_. I took her and turned her into something beautifully dangerous, enhancing the abilities she carried in her blood. What a pity that fool of an elf-lord entranced her so deeply. In the end, I got nothing - and she got a taste of what I could have given her. Quite unfair, do you not think?" He waved a gauntlet-covered hand. "But that is beside the point. She died. Fortunately, she left three children, but then one went mad, one died in battle, and the last killed herself. The latter also birthed children, a babe still in the cradle and another girl, cut from her womb after her death. And that last child - she was indeed something special. So full of promise -" He paused for a moment, then continued, a bite of malice leaking through. "-until she had _you_. So now you are the last one of your line, and I have no choice but to rely upon your fickle, weak heart."

Tauriel sucked in a furious breath, the sudden weight at her vocal cords gone, and spat at his feet. "In the end, you cannot win. And I will never give you what you seek."

"Such arrogance." The blankness faded, replaced by a fiery background. Sauron bent and replaced his helmet upon his head, stepping backwards into what Tauriel realized was his Eye. The outline of the Dark Lord surged forward, as if running towards her but never truly getting there. The unsettling silence changed, electricity surging through the air as the hairs on the back of Tauriel's neck stood on end. " _In the end, you will have no choice. I have been waiting far too long to let yet another slip through my fingertips._ " The eerie rasp sent chills dancing down her spine, and she loathed the reaction he got from her. " _You could have power, beyond your greatest imaginings. All you have to do is come to me."_

She lifted her chin, mind swirling with new realizations and sudden understandings. "I _had_ power - and I hated it." She swallowed, heat dancing across her skin as the nails on her right hand bit into her left wrist.

 _This - all of this - it is mine,_ she thought furiously. _My mind, my body. And I will not let the actions of whoever came before me influence what I do now._

She narrowed her eyes until they were little more than slits, letting their emerald green burn hot. "Strange," she spat, voice pure poison. "Everyone expects me to be exactly like the rest of my line. And yet time and time again, I find I am _quite_ different." She braced herself, letting her anger carry her along, and continued, voice rising into a scream. _"Now get out!"_

* * *

Boromir moaned, forcing himself to sit up. Every inch of his body ached.

The air was thick and cloying. And yet, his heart was glad, for at last he could begin the journey to rejoin his comrades.

He stood, thanking the gods that none of his lower body had been severely injured. Looking down at himself, he knew that if the Warg had torn open his skin in any more places, he would surely be dead, elven healing powers or no.

He would never wield a sword again, or at least not well. The thought made a harsh ache rise up inside his chest, but he pushed it down.

Scar tissue stretched dangerously as he stepped forward, a bit unsteady on his feet as he reached for his shirt.

Despite himself, a half-smile was wrenching the corners of his mouth upwards.

It was time.

* * *

"I really don't care what you think is best," Audriel snarled, her pupils dilated until her eyes were nearly completely black, rage and a great unspeakable sadness making every breath she took seem like agony. "You will explain to my daughter why her life is now in danger, and why she was even taken under the palantir's spell in the first place. How could any of you even let this happen?" she demanded, her voice rising dangerously.

Mithrandir stared blankly at his hands, and she took a vague moment to appreciate the fact he had not yet protested about her keeping him from questioning the hobbits. "Telling her any more now will do more harm than good," he said tiredly, "even if she is capable of hearing what I say at present."

"I care not!" she growled. "Look at her! I doubt that anything short of severe bodily harm could make things worse now. Even if you just tell her she will be all right - there is no need for a lengthy explanation."

Gandalf glanced towards Tauriel.

She was sitting motionless, back ram-rod straight, her green eyes heavy-lidded and lips moving silently. Legolas had already tried to get a reaction from her several times, as had Aragorn.

"I do not know precisely what has happened to your daughter," he said slowly, and with deep regret, "but at present I cannot focus my attention solely on her. We must discover whether or not Pippin told Sauron anything regarding Frodo and the Ring. The fate of the One Ring takes all priority at this time."

Audriel's hands curled up into themselves as he spoke, nails biting into her palms until there were bloody half-moons marking them. With effort, she straightened her fingers, flexing them slightly.

"You must do something," she said evenly, straining to remain calm. "If I had not shielded her mind as best I could in the very beginning, I believe she would have gone mad. I could feel his presence in her - dark and cloying, everything she has purged from herself, and if he continues to stretch her she will break. I have seen her fall apart before, and if she does so again I fear there will be no putting the pieces back together. Beyond that, she is far too crucial to this battle for you to loose her - particularly now, when she is so close to becoming what you need so dearly."

The wizard opened his mouth.

"Oh, please," Audriel snapped. It felt good, to try and hide her own pain with white-hot words, and she could feel her emotions leaving her, fading away into the distance like she had long ago trained herself to do. "Mad though you may think me, we both know I am not blind, nor stupid."

Mithrandir lowered his head to his hands and rubbed slowly at his temples. The motion was startlingly - _human_.

"I am sorry," he said softly, and stood, leaning heavily on his staff. "If she is strong, she will prevail, and if not she will fall into Shadow, but either way there is nothing I can do. Sauron's hold on her is beyond my grasp. I must speak to the others. Stay with her."

"As if I would do anything else," she tossed back, her voice acidic. She was somewhat insulted that he felt he had to even sugest she do so, the feeling biting through the layers of brutally repressed terror for Tauriel's well-being. The whispers of what she sought from her daughter had almost completely faded to the back of her mind now, and she was glad.

The wizard left, his steps painfully slow, and Audriel stared down at Tauriel for a long moment.

 _"Amin anar ar' giliath?_ " she whispered, and the brush of fingers underneath Tauriel's chin was gentle. " _Kwara no' just y' ai ner. Ona amin coiasira. Avara on- ho mani ro merna."_

She stepped away, reaching for a cloak to drape over her daughter's shoulders.

And then she lifted her fist to her mouth and bit down on it, hard, as she screamed, the sound muffled somewhat by her own flesh.

When she finally fell silent, there were hot tears streaking down her cheeks, and her lips were stained with her own blood, darker than any other elf's would have been.

"Curse that wizard," she hissed into the emptiness of the room. "Curse him, for though he sees much, he is too blind to understand that _she is everything."_

But her love for her daughter was blind, though she had fought so hard against it, and so she could not fully understand that when the time came, if they did not stand together as one, they would all fall. A breath of wind could topple their carefully constructed tower.

And no matter who or what Tauriel was, there would be nothing she could do to stop it.

* * *

She was still.

Still as death, though her chest still rose and fell.

Gimli stared down at Tauriel with a expression of disbelieving horror on his face, his heart fairly stopping in his chest for a long moment.

The elf prince had said it was bad.

Gimli had not believed him, or perhaps had not wanted to, for elves were strange creatures and despite the reluctant affection the dwarf had for Legolas, his fear for Tauriel's well-being was on a different level.

She was such a reckless lass.

All fire and snapping green eyes. Gimli could definitely understand why the princeling was so fascinated with her.

The dwarf removed his helmet, peering down at the red-haired elf's face.

"You're going to have to wake up soon," he murmured. "Else the Ranger will murder elf-ears. The princeling's been pacing since your mother kicked him out of the room. He's driving us all half-mad."

Her half-shut lids fluttered somewhat. Her hands had been crossed upon her chest as she lay upon the cot - he guessed her mother had done that - and the position was disturbingly like the ones so many were given in death.

"Are you scared?" he wondered. "I am. Scared half to death that we're going to lose this, and everything others have sacrificed will be for naught." He snorted. "But I am sure most think me half a fool, and so they pay no attention to my ramblings."

He was also scared that the Dark Lord's hand had managed to reach into their midst and tear one of their own away, but he did not voice his concerns.

"Take your time," Gimli said. "But remember you still owe me a flagon of your fine elvish wine."

"If she does not have a chance to honor your agreement, I will," someone else said, and the dwarf leaped backwards, clutching one hand to his chest.

"Blast!" Gimli half-shouted in shock. He looked towards the sound, and abruptly registered the elf sitting in the very corner of the room.

She was like a miniature of Tauriel, he thought, eyes raking over her.

Audriel was wrapped in a grey cloak, huddled in on herself, eyes dull. A smear of semi-dried blood marred one side of her face.

She looked ill.

Or perhaps broken.

"What do you want, elf?" Gimli asked, his voice as expressionless as he could get it. He had never spoken in depth with Audriel, but had noticed the way others seemed to shrink from her presence. It was true there was something _off_ about her, something dark and indefinably wrong.

"My daughter back," she answered flatly, and rose, legs unfolding gracefully as she moved towards him, slinking like a cat. "You are her friend," she continued, emotionless, as she joined him at Tauriel's side.

"I believe so," Gimli said stifly.

"Good."

The answer was entirely unexpected, and he frowned.

Audriel tilted her face towards him. "Do you know where the Ranger and the elf prince are currently?"

"Aye."

"Would you be willing to fetch them?" There was a bite of humiliation in her words that seemed oddly out of place.

He scowled harder for several long moments.

"Very well," he finally said. "But only for the lass."

Audriel sagged in relief. "I thank you," she murmured, and slid back to her corner, disappearing into the dull grey of the stone behind her.

Gimli hesitated for a heartbeat or two, shook his head to try and clear his thoughts, and left in search of Aragorn and Legolas.

* * *

Aragorn stared out onto the balcony, trying to ignore the way Legolas was moving ceaselessly behind him.

Merry and Pippin were huddled on the floor inside, looking sick.

" _Mellonamin_ ," Aragorn finally said, turning to face Thranduil's heir, "please. Stop. Tiring yourself will do nothing to help her."

"And yet there is nothing else to do," Legolas responded somewhat harshly. "If we just knew what was wrong, we could do something. How does this keep happening, much less to her? What has made her so very desirable to the forces of Shadow?"

"What I know of her is not my story to tell,"Aragorn answered mildly. "She is strong. I have faith she will pull through."

"But she _isn't_ strong," Legolas snapped. "Not anymore, at least. Not after all that has happened on this journey."

Aragorn regarded the elf with cautious curiosity, not entirely sure if this was something he wanted to know. "Go on."

"All through this quest, she has had spells of - illness. Visions. Great pain. When we traveled through the Mines of Moria - even when I did not know who she truly was - I could see how she was changing. She looked as if she was going half-mad. And then after the battle, when her mother - curse Audriel - revealed herself, there was an - incident. It was if she was seeing ghosts. She could not even draw back her bow for a long time afterwards. I fear this will be the end." He sucked in a breath, halting his ramblings, and looking much as if he might cry.

Aragorn tilted his head to the side. "I see."

The door opened with a bang, making them both jerk slightly in surprise.

Gimli exhaled harshly. "Her mother wants to see you both. I think she wants your help."

* * *

Legolas shoved his way through the door, making a beeline for Tauriel's motionless form.

He heard rather than saw Aragorn come to a halt behind him, the Ranger's sharp inhale telling him that he, too, was shocked at how bad Tauriel looked.

Her skin was already starting to pale, as if her blood was draining away.

He stared down at her, his heart missing several beats, and flinched as Audriel clapped her hands together loudly.

Reluctantly, he turned to look at her.

"I need your help," the moon-faced elf said flatly. "And the wizard cannot know."

Aragorn gave his equivalent of a half-laugh. "He likely knows what you plan to do already."

Audriel tossed him a scathing glare. "Enough. That is beside the point. He will not want me doing this, which is why I need you all here." She inhaled. "Listen carefully."

* * *

Lord Elrond opened his eyes slowly, letting the vague warmth of the sun wash over him.

Something had changed.

Or, he amended silently, was going to change.

He could feel Arwen, her life-pulse burning hot with regret and a great longing that she could stay.

In his own heart, there was a matching swell of emotions, for already he missed her more than he could remember missing anything or anyone for centuries.

He could feel the Lady Galadriel, her consciousness a great lantern in the night, glowing bright enough it was hard to focus on anything else.

The Lady of Light wept often, now. She, more than anyone, could feel the Shadow spreading. Like blood across a swath of white cloth, it flowed.

If he focused hard enough, he could reach out and grasp at Audriel - Seena's - mind, only to be shoved back, sliding off the slippery shields without hope of finding a handhold.

He could not think of her without thinking of _his_ Seena, and it hurt more than he would have liked to admit.

And then there was another- larger, darker, stronger. He wondered briefly who it was, poking and prodding at it for a long moment and then sucking in breath as a barrage of images hit him.

 _Fire and blood._

* * *

 ***deep breath***  
 **So that's over with. Random bit of info: I have found my writer's kryptonite: _grey_ vs. _gray_ and run on sentences. I'm fairly sure you will find some of the latter in this chapter (oops).**

 **Now, I know that you are all probably getting a bit sick of everything be centered around Tauriel. I totally understand. I will be doing my best to remedy this in the next few chapters, and there will be a development that will reduce her impact on everything else quite a bit.**  
 **Oh, and I am SO not trying to paint Gandalf as a bad guy here. He has legitimate reasons for everything he does, and has gotten really good at anticipating what everyone else will do. And we saw Boromir again - yay!**  
 **The whole Sauron bit was admittedly very strange to write. I had no idea how to paint him in that particular light.**

 **The next chapter will likely be up late this month or early next month. Hope y'all enjoyed it, despite the weirdness, LOL. And kudos to everyone who catches my shameless GoT reference, LOL.**  
 **Until next time!**


	42. In Two Worlds

**I finally have an update for y'all! Not fully edited - I'll be super busy for the next week or two and I figured it was better to get this out now than wait that long. I don't think I got any questions in the reviews for the last chapter, and I'm short on time, so I'll leave it with a HUGE shout-out to everyone who has taken the time to leave a note. _Thank you!_**

 **Hope y'all enjoy!**

* * *

It started with a sudden clenching of muscles underneath Audriel's skin.

The elf tensed until she was almost shaking, her eyes rolled back into her head, a strangled sort of gasp coming from her throat.

Aragorn's fingers bore down on Tauriel's arms as he had been instructed, keeping her from lashing out at them. Both he and Legolas were tense, their faces pale.

A surge of heat washed over them, the air in the room becoming thick and cloying.

"What is she doing?" Legolas hissed, a rather undignified undertone of panic winding its way through his words.

Aragorn's jaw clenched, hard, before he answered. "I believe she is trying to rebuild Tauriel's mental defenses, without revealing her own mind to Sauron. But she had been warned against it - by both Tauriel and Gandalf. If she slips but once, strays too far to the edge, all is lost."

"Why is she risking so much?" he asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

"Because she is vastly arrogant," Aragorn responded flatly, "and proud, for she believes she truly knows best and seems to care little for the cost of her actions. And perhaps her affection for her daughter is blinding her to the truth, unlikely though it is. She goes against the wishes of both the one she seeks to save and one of the most knowledgeable people she will ever meet. That speaks of either great power, hidden from the rest of us, or great foolishness. She is half-mad, that I know."

Legolas closed his eyes for a long moment as the implication of what this could mean washed over him. "Yes," he half-whispered, "she is."

* * *

Thranduil stood motionless, the complete and utter silence clinging to his skin, penetrating his mind and sinking into his blood.

There was no breath of wind.

No faint hiss of the leaves as they brushed against each other, whispering secrets that elven ears would likely never hear.

Everything stank of rot.

The sickly-sweet smell of amber blood as it dripped from countless wounds in the trees' once even bark did nothing to help.

The chasm between his mind and the woodland was growing, he knew.

He could feel it, could sense the spiderweb of cracks that were steadily widening.

Once, he had been scared.

Now he felt little more than resignation.

And perhaps guilt, for in his own way he had pushed the sequence of events along.

Ears picking up on some sort of scuttling noise in the bushes - painfully loud in the otherwise complete silence - he let his hand drift to the hilt of his sword.

A spider burst from the clump of shrubbery, hairy legs moving startlingly fast, eyes glittering black.

The sword leapt from its sheath, slamming upwards into the creature's abdomen. Its pincers snapped viciously together, inches from Thranduil's face, as guts and black gore spilled from its body.

Seconds later, it was dead.

His face twisted into an expression of vague disgust, the Elvenking withdrew his blade, wiping it upon the coarse grass at his feet.

Had anyone asked him, years ago, if things could get worse, he would have shaken his head and said no.

At the time, he thought he had regained his tenuous grasp upon the woodland.

Now he wished for the days when the birds still sang in the trees and the brooks gurgled with clean, fresh water.

He sheathed the blade with a easy, fluid motion born of centuries of practice.

His eyes traced over the shadowy skeletons of his once-proud forest, a weary gray that spoke of many a year of experience.

He knew that the time of the elves was indeed over, or was ending.

But his people could not even leave their underground chambers for fear of attack by the creatures of Shadow. They could not sail, could not join the fight against Sauron.

Once, his people had loved him deeply. Had respected him, and he had respected and admired them in turn. Since his son had left, though, his temper had soured, and it pained him deeply to see them turn their faces away from him.

 _And so this is our fate,_ he thought. _To waste away in the darkness of our safehaven, for there is no way for the sun to reach beneath the ground._

With one last glance, he turned, striding easily back towards the gates of what had become little more than a prison.

* * *

Eowyn sank to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest in an effort to keep herself from falling apart into a billion little pieces that were promptly crushed underfoot.

Her heart ached.

She wanted - needed - _something_.

Some sort of attachment, of affection, that she had not really ever been shown before.

She knew it was foolish.

Knew that it was the stuff of the sickly-sweet bedtime stories her nurse had once told her, the ones that always had happy endings and never even brushed against the darkness in the world around them.

But she had dreamed, once - like most all girls - and had more recently tried to cling to hope that perhaps achieving such a life was possible, without sacrificing any of her own personal values.

Eowyn did truly care for Aragorn. She was drawn to him, fascinated by the depth to his eyes and his quiet, yet commanding presence. But most of all, she felt like he would let her be who she truly was.

Tauriel had taken her fledgling dreams and dropped them from the top of a tower, letting them crash into the cobblestones below.

She hated the elf for it, in a way, and at the same time could not bring herself to truly loathe her after what she had seen.

And yet. . .

A tiny voice in the back of her mind was whispering that it had all been madness. Especially with the battles raging around them all every day, and the threat that would take them all down if they could not find a way to stand against it.

She sniffled, wiping at the hot tears streaking down her face.

She wanted her mother.

Wanted someone she could talk to, someone she could trust.

Swallowing, she choked down a sob. Her right hand clenched hard, and then slammed into the floor, cracking against the stone with brutal finality.

Immediately, agony flared, and fresh tears sprung to her eyes. Her knuckles were scraped and bleeding, and inside she was screaming that it was foolish, _foolish_ -

She slumped against the wall, weeping openly, both from pain and the great swell of emotions inside her. Cradling her hand against her chest, the bite of the stone at her back, she closed her eyes and realized that, above almost everything else, she wanted to _fight_.

* * *

She was fighting, and she was losing.

As Sauron picked her up in one massive armored hand, swinging her body to the side like it was little more than a rag doll, Tauriel felt her ribs crunch dangerously, the pain blinding.

Memories burned hot, and she remembered when Bolg had done much the same thing - and then the plunge of a wicked blade through the chest of -

 _No_.

The only thing keeping her from letting the black spots dancing before her eyes grow and swell until they had engulfed her vision was the fact that none of this was truly happening.

At least, not to her actual body.

Her mind was still registering the agony, and she was sure her body was tossing and turning wildly outside this vision, but when she awoke - if she ever did so - she would not be hurt, beyond the injuries her body had sustained previously.

Spitting a mouthful of blood and bile to the side, she gazed upwards, watching as the Dark Lord crouched.

 _"Do you submit?"_ he demanded, voice echoing off the harsh white stone.

"No."

Her response was little more than a whisper, week and wobbly, but it was still defiant - and for that small mercy she was glad.

 ** _"_** _With enough time, your mind will be destroyed,_ ** _"_** he mused. " _You will be unable to process the phantom pain, causing your mind to essentially shut down on itself. Then you will be trapped here - still at my mercy, if I so choose, but unable to get out."_

"And yet that will change nothing." Her voice was rising, causing bright sprays of gold-tinted light to dance off her half-shut lids as agony swept over with every new word. "I still do not understand what you want; perhaps I never will. But I am stubborn - you should know that, for all that you say you understand me - and though I may go mad, I will not submit. I have suffered through much before and will continue to do so if it means you will not get what you say you so dearly need." A half-laugh bubbled from her lips, sending more blood spilling down her chin. "You should have known better, to tell me what you needed. You should have known-"

He chuckled.

Deep, slow, infuriating.

 _Uncaring_.

And it was mad - this was all mad, she was mad, and she knew it - to be angry that he did not seem to care and even madder to expect him to do so, but she was.

Fury was rising up deep inside - the strength she needed to keep going - spilling over and sending some of the pain spiraling away.

Tauriel rose up onto her elbows, wishing desperately for some sort of weapon.

Lifting a shaky hand, she wiped away blood at her mouth. One of her teeth had been knocked loose; her jaw ached wildly.

Trembling, she prepared to stand.

Prepared to fight again.

Braced herself to lose - for she knew now she could never hope to stand against him and win.

Wished she had some sort of way to find her way out of this maze her own mind had constructed.

And then everything quite simply disappeared.

* * *

Lord Elrond's hand clenched, hard, around the white railing he had been leaning upon.

His face was almost the same shade as the painted woodwork.

fire

 _Arwen, running, hair streaming out behind her and a slash of red across one cheek-_

 _a deep, unspeakable terror that boiled up in his throat like bile_

 _the Ring_

 _gasping for breath as agony hit him like a sack of bricks_

 _running out of time_

 _and then_

 _\- nothing_

Lady Galadriel's voice hit him like a tidal wave, utterly without warning and cracking like a whip, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. _What has happened?_

Elrond slid a hand down his face, his brows pulled together so harshly they nearly met in the middle of his forehead as he collected himself. _I believe that what I thought to be the end has somehow turned into more of a - beginning._

A sigh like a great gust of wind, the Lady of Light's somewhat abnormal explosiveness dulling. _There is an end in every beginning, and a beginning in every end. Does she still live?_

 _Aye._

 _And that is all that matters._ There was the barest hint of a question in her voice, so faint that had he not known, from centuries of experience, to look for it he never would have guessed.

 _Do you agree?_

 _Do we have another choice?_

 _Not anymore._

 _Then that is your answer._

 _But is it hers?_ he wondered.

 _I cannot say._

 _Perhaps even she cannot._

 _But her mother can_ , Lady Galadriel mused.

 _I do not see why it would be any different now than it has been so many times before._

 _And yet you say you do not care,_ Heru en' Rivende _l_.

 _I do not_ , he snapped, somewhat irritated at the statement.

 _Then you lie to not only me but yourself._

 _You fail to understand that I did care, once - for an entirely different elleth - but long ago ceased to invest pieces of my heart in those who will do little more than destroy it._

A soft chuckle, light and airy as dandelion puffs on a spring breeze and yet seemingly all-knowing. _She reminds you of Seena more than you care to admit._

 _Which one?_ he demanded. _For there is only one Seena I have ever truly known._

 _Does it matter? In the Dark Lord's eyes, they are all one and the same. When he fails to capture one, he moves to the next._

 _It does. And that does not seem to be fully the case - he seeks out only the ones who have previously formed a heart-tie with the woodland._

 _Do we know why he has not tried to bring Audriel to his side once more?_

 _No._

 _There is still much we do not know about her years spent away from our gazes, Elrond. She was trained by one of the_ nim-ohtar _in her youth. I doubt she has ever fully revealed her skill set._

 _She will to Tauriel._ There was a steady confidence in his words that somewhat surprised them both.

 _You believe she cares that much?_

 _That and more._

 _She is getting arrogant, then._

 _Perhaps. Or mayhap she knows something we do not._

 _That I doubt._

 _I oft times think we are getting arrogant ourselves._

There was a long, steady silence at his words. In his mind's eye, Lord Elrond saw Lady Galadriel's eyes, blue and unblinking, unfathomably deep.

She stirred at last, and he could feel her weariness. _Perhaps you are right. What did you see, Elrond?_

A pause.

 _Many things,_ he finally responded. _The Man of Gondor lives._

 _I am aware._

 _Of course you are._

She knew he was lying, of course - and he knew that she knew - or, at least, concealing something that had troubled him deeply. But she also recognized that sometimes, truths were best left unsaid, at least for a time, and so she bore him no grudge.

Closing her eyes and slipping away, she left him to his thoughts.

* * *

Audriel came back to herself slowly, the change of her heartbeat the first sign she was awakening.

The first thing she saw, as her eyelids fluttered open, was Gimli's face hovering above her own.

With a curse, she shoved herself upright . A dagger had leapt into her hand, seemingly of its own accord, and was held to the dwarf's throat.

Gimli yelped, staggering backwards. "It's just me, elf!"

She payed him little heed. Lowering the blade with a hand that shook far too much for comfort, panic surging in her throat, she sought the princeling or Ranger's eyes.

"She is fine."

It came from Legolas - and in her foggy mind she thought she could see his father's face painted over his own - as he stood, still staring down at Tauriel.

Audriel stood on wobbly legs, wondering how she had ended up on the floor several feet from where she had originally been standing.

"Did it work?" Her voice was husky, the metallic and familiar aftertaste of blood filling her mouth.

"I cannot say," Aragorn answered, "seeing as I do not completely understand what you were trying to do in the first place." There was vague irritation and dislike - but that was no surprise - buried beneath his outwardly mostly calm words.

"Did her fever rise and then break?"

"Aye." This from Gimli.

"How long was I out?" _Weak_ , she thought, _you are growing weak, and this must stop_.

"Near a half-hour. You fainted almost a minute after you began whatever you sought to do," Aragorn answered.

"I did not _faint_ ," Audriel snarled.

"What did you do?" Legolas asked, sounding disgustingly worried.

Audriel rounded on him, tossing the prince a look of deep loathing. "I shut her off."

" _What_?" all three demanded in unison.

"Silence," she growled, her ire rising. "Sauron had created such a large breach in her defenses that there was no walling them back up. So I shut that part of her mind down - perhaps permanently. Either way, she will have no more visions or mental contact with anyone until Sauron has been defeated, and then I will see if anything can still be salvaged."

"You destroyed something that was hers." Legolas sounded horrified.

"Do shut up," she snapped in his general direction. "I saved her life. Would you prefer she quite literally still be stuck underneath the Dark Lord's thumb?" She tried taking a step and cursed again, legs nearly folding underneath her meager weight. "Has she said anything? Or awoken?"

"What is wrong with your eyes?" Gimli asked, sounding alarmed.

Her head whipped around as she stared at him, brows drawn tightly together. "What?"

"He is right," Aragorn added. "They have gone gold. And now black - and green again -"

Audriel let herself relax somewhat, hobbling towards the cot. "Get out."

There was silence; Gimli coughed lightly.

"I beg your pardon?" Legolas finally inquired.

"Your hearing has not been damaged, I fear? You heard me correctly - out." Her irritation was rising rapidly, as was the ache in her head. She needed food and a long rest, and she would kill a hundred men before she let them see her weakened yet again.

Gimli left without another word.

Legolas hesitated just a moment too long for her taste, eyes lingering on Tauriel's motionless form.

But it was Aragorn who stayed for another full minute, his eyes dark and steady and challenging.

 _Fool_ , she thought snidely.

"What you did risked us all," he said evenly. "And you knew it would."

She straightened her back and forced her legs not to collapse, letting a wicked grin flit over her lips. "Well, you know what they say - I'm quite mad."

He gave no outward sign of reaction; somehow, that bothered her more than most anything else. "The only reason I did not seek a way to stop you was because I knew there was not likely to be one."

Her eyes narrowed, sending shivers of pain across her head. "How flattering."

"You take too many risks, Audriel - _Seena_. And if I ever think there is a chance that it will lead to our downfall, I will not hesitate to sacrifice myself if it means you will be stopped."

She hummed gently at that. "So honorable. That, Ranger, will be _your_ downfall. And you are wrong. That is no longer my name to bear." She lifted a hand, gesturing as best she could towards her daughter. "It is hers."

* * *

Gandalf lowered himself into a chair, groaning lightly as every bone in his body seemed to crack painfully.

His staff clasped between both hands, he pondered, wishing he could lite his pipe but knowing it was likely not the best choice in the present circumstances.

There were so many twisting roads that led away, away, into the dark.

What Audriel had done - it changed everything, and he feared not all would be for the best, even in the end.

 _. . . must see to it that the shards of Narsil are reforged into a new blade, and that it is given to Aragorn . . ._

That much he had suspected. Elrond would protest, yes, but it was necessary. Sauron was moving to strike the city of Minas Tirith, even as he sat, deep in thought. The Dark Lord's defeat at Helm's Deep had shown him one thing at least: the Heir of Elendil had come forth, and deep down Sauron was likely scared of what that could mean, the situation with Tauriel and Audriel all aside.

 _That which was once forsaken shall be forgiven, and a heart that did not believe in itself will become strong._

This - this he had no idea how to try and decipher. What was forsaken, and how was it to be forgiven? Whose heart? He shook his head, distractedly lifting a hand to his now-white beard and pulling lightly. He would have to think long and hard on this before coming to any sort of conclusion.

 _The fight shall be taken to Sauron..._

Again, necessary, if not somewhat obvious. They dearly needed to distract Sauron, and while Tauriel had provided something of the sort, that was over now. The Dark Lord would be furious, would search the lands of Mordor ceaselessly.

 _. . . the Evenstar has fallen._

He hoped this did not mean what he thought - Elrond would tear himself apart over it, in his own stern way, much as he had done all those centuries ago.

 _Would that my dream had not come true._

This worried him.

Possibly more than it should.

If she had seen that in her dreams, what else had she seen?

What other choices had she seen come and go, without saying a word? He knew she had oft feared she was going mad, but even so . . .

Surely after the events in Moria and beyond, she had more than a faint glimmer of an idea that she could see what could happen.

 _Why did she not speak of any of it?_ he wondered. _Why did she persist in locking so much of herself away?_

Audriel had not had a chance to train her in any way shape or form. There simply had not been time.

Mithrandir sighed, closing his eyes.

If Tauriel did not wake soon, he would have to remove her from his plans. He had to tell the others what was happening soon, or they would begin to falter deep down.

So much - so very, very much, was resting on the shoulders of them all, now. There were, at least, small rays of light.

Boromir was at last coming back to them. A songbird had flitted through an open window not a half-hour ago, carrying a sweet song in its heart and even gladder news.

He fervently hoped this would not lead to yet more obstacles. Faramir had enough to deal with, his father aside. Boromir's abrupt return, especially since he likely believed him dead, would not be a pleasant surprise. There was a bitterness that ran deep in Faramir's heart, now, born of his father's blatant favoritism towards Boromir.

But if the two could reconcile -

 _Perhaps_ -

Denethor, surely, though Boromir dead. None of them had really given anyone a sign that he was alive; to everyone else he was likely just another wounded soldier, albeit one who stood in good favor with the Fellowship.

He shook away the muddy waters of his many thoughts, going back to words that gave him hope, even though they had come just before a great blow to them all.

 _And yet - perhaps this will lead to great happiness, for in the end the paths that seem the most convoluted can be the quickest road home._

He wished he could find away to pass them along to Frodo, for in his heart he felt that the Ring Bearer was losing faith, and the fate of them all rested in his hands.

* * *

Legolas knocked on the door, perhaps harder than necessary, a frown furrowing his brow.

"Come in," Mithrandir called, his voice heavy.

He entered, steps quick. "You know?" he demanded bluntly.

"Aye."

"And you offered no protest?"

"I would have changed nothing, and Tauriel could be dead."

"But it would have been of her own free will - it would have been her choice. You know how highly she values her freedom. When she awakes, she will most certainly be furious. We may lose her trust, perhaps even her blade."

Gandalf considered him for a moment. "You remind me much of Thranduil when he was younger."

Legolas opened his mouth, a response on the tip of his tongue, but stopped.

"So very fixiated on what you see to be the most important things. Oft times they are. But others . . ."

"I am very little like my father."

"Yes. They say you look like your mother, though I never knew her well. You have her jaw, most certainly. But you have your father's eyes, and sometimes I find myself remembering how he was before he lost many of those most dear to him. He was . . . devastated. Broken, yet so steadfast in his desire to remain undamaged that he destroyed the deepest, most innocent parts of his own self."

Legolas was silent, not knowing quite what to say to that.

At last, the wizard sighed, turning to meet his eyes. "You came here in search of something, correct?"

Legolas jolted somewhat; he never quite got used to people knowing what he wanted before he actually said it and tried not to dwell on the knowledge that someone could know what he felt or thought before he himself did.

"I came to see if you had anything to help Tauriel," he said, still feeling a bit off balance.

"Ah." Gandalf rose with several painful sounding pops and cracks, moving towards the heavy cloak folded on a table nearby. "I just might. You must not tell anyone that I gave it to you, though - Audriel is already firmly set against me. "

He rummaged in its folds for a long moment before drawing a small vile out, handing it carefully to Legolas.

Legolas uncorked it, sniffed lightly, and gagged in the back of his throat. "What is this?"

"A potent mixture of my own crafting, designed to heighten senses, speed up the healing process, and protect ones' mind." Mithrandir sounded pleased with himself, and Legolas grudgingly admitted he was more than right to be. "Now, you must give her all of this as soon as her heartbeat has reached a normal speed. If she is still sane, she should wake within an hour after that.

The prince stared down into it for another long moment before slamming the stopper back in, sealing the horrendous smell inside. "Thank you."

Gandalf smiled, wrinkles spreading out from the corners of his eyes. "`Tis nothing. I only wish I could do more." He followed Legolas to the door. "You are a true friend to her, Legolas Greenleaf. I thank you for it."

* * *

"There was no lie in Pippin's eyes," Mithrandir said, and Aragorn listed silently. "A fool, but an honest fool he remains. He told Sauron nothing of Frodo and the Ring. We've been strangely fortunate, even. Pippin saw in the palantir a glimpse of the enemy's plan, and Tauriel has helped to click the pieces of the puzzle into place. Sauron moves to strike the city of Minas Tirith. His defeat at Helm's Deep has alerted him to the presence of the Heir of Elendil " - Aragorn flinched almost imperceptibly - " and now he realizes that Men are not as weak as he supposed. There is courage still, strength, perhaps, to challenge him. Sauron fears this. He will not risk the peoples of Middle-earth uniting under one banner. He will raze Minas Tirith to the ground before he sees a king return to the throne of Men. If the beacons of Gondor are lit, Rohan must be ready for war."

"Tell me," Theoden-king demanded, "why should we ride to the aid of those who did not come to ours? What do we owe Gondor?"

"I will go," Aragorn said flatly.

"No!" Gandalf snapped.

"They must be warned!" he insisted.

"They will be." The wizard took several rapid steps towards him and spoke softly into his ear. "You must come to Minas Tirith by another road. Follow the river. Look to the black ships." He stepped back, raising his voice. "Understand this: things are now in motion that cannot be undone. I ride for Minas Tirith. And I won't be going alone."

* * *

Audriel looked at her reflection in the mirror and wondered where the years had gone.

Spiderwebs of wrinkles spread out from the corners of her eyes, so faint even she could barely see them, but they were there. She knew that they were due to her almost constant -half-slitted eyes.

Her scars were still many.

Looking at her bare form, she allowed herself to hate them, even the ones that she had inflicted upon herself, because they marked her failures.

She had missed so many kills for one of her skill and mindset. So long ago, she had missed a single kill and screamed her throat raw and bloody. Looking at the four slashes now, she felt little more than weary resignation.

Clothing herself quickly, she shoved away the last traces of the flickering glamour, watching as her features snapped neatly into place.

She prayed that what she had done would not lead Tauriel to harm.

A knock at the door sounded; she jumped slightly. Once again, her senses were failing her.

She opened it smoothly, with a hand on the daggers at her waist. "Aye?"

Gandalf stepped inside without a word.

"What do you want?" Audriel demanded harshly, wishing she had had more time to replenish her energy before this confrontation.

"You know what Tauriel wants you to do," the wizard said.

"Of course I do," she snapped.

"When she awakes, you will take her, and you will go to Rivendell. I have sent word to the eagles, requesting their assistance. They say they are more than willing to offer their wings. In two days time, they will meet you a mile to the west and will fly you to Rivendell."

Audriel scowled at him, wondering if she was supposed to be impressed. The thoron were noble and wise creatures, but had always made her uncomfortable - she had met them but once before, and had somehow felt that they knew _things_ about her she would prefer that they not.

She was not particularly fond of great heights, either.

"Fine," she growled. "Anything else I should know?"

Mithrandir eyed her for a long second. "I do not believe so."

* * *

"Of all the inquisitive hobbits, Peregrin Took, you are the worst! Hurry, hurry!"

"Where are we going?" Pippin asked. The stables were dry and warm, dust filtering through the air and making him want to sneeze.

Merry turned to him, scowling. "Why did you look? Why do you always have to look?"

"I don't know," Pippin muttered. "I can't help it."

"You never can."

"I'm sorry, all right?" he said, sounding somewhat defensive. "I won't do it again."

"Don't you understand? The enemy thinks you have the Ring. He's going to be looking for you, Pip. They have to get you out of here."

"And you - you're coming with me?"

Merry turned and retreated farther into the dim golden light.

"Merry?" he whispered.

"Come on," Merry called, and the off-key sound of his voice told Pippin all he needed to know.

Gandalf was already mounted on Shadowfax, the great white stallion staring down at them with liquid-brown eyes.

"How far is Minas Tirith?" Pippin asked.

"Three days ride, as the Nazgul flies - and you'd best hope we don't have on of those on our tail." Without warning, he snagged Pippin by the collar, lifting him onto Shadowfax's back.

"Here," Merry murmured. "Something for the road." He handed Pippin a small package, watching as he opened it and then inhaled deeply.

"The last of the Longbottom Leaf," Pippin said quietly.

"I know you've run out. You smoke too much Pip." There was a sad smile on Merry's lips.

"But - but we'll see each other soon - won't we?"

"I don't know," Merry said. "I don't know what's going to happen."

"Merry -" Pippin started, but Gandalf had brushed his heels against Shadowfax's sides and the stallion had leapt forward, mane whipping against their faces.

"Run, Shadowfax," the wizard cried. "Show us the meaning of haste!"

Hooves pounded against the ground, a harsh and rhythmic sound, and they were gone, vanished through the opened stable doors.

"Merry!" Pippin cried, his voice fading away.

Merry turned, making for a lookout point. Aragorn saw him rush past and straightened, moving after him. "Merry!"

They climbed the stairs, coming to a halt just in time to see the two riders fade away, though Shadowfax's glaringly white coat could be followed for much longer.

"He's always followed me, everywhere I went, since before we were tweens," Merry was saying hoarsely. "I would get him into the worst sort of trouble, but I was always there to get him out. Now he's gone. Just like Frodo and Sam..."

Aragorn put a hand on Merry's shoulder. "One thing I have learned about hobbits: They're a most hardy folk."

Merry chuckled weakly. "Foolhardy, maybe. He's a Took."

Aragorn laughed.

* * *

When Tauriel awoke, hours later, there were a steady set of gray eyes burning into her own.

"You're back," Legolas said eagerly, relief painted all over his face as he rose from his seat at her bedside. "It worked."

She rolled over and threw up.

* * *

 **So first off, I recommend going back to Chapter One: One Ring and reading the Author's Note and warnings - I updated them and added some new info.**

 **Secondly, this chapter marks the end of the main group traveling all together. We'll be jumping all over the place in the coming chapters, with lots of Arwen, Gandalf, and others. :)**

 **My apologies if the Lord Elrond/Lady Galadriel scene was somewhat confusing; I did the best I could to indicate who was talking.**

 **Leave me some! :)**


	43. The Parting of Ways

**Guys, I am SO sorry for the ridiculously long wait. Early last month, a lot of stuff happened, and it's been hard to work through. I can't really talk about it (and it'd be a ridiculously long story) but please believe me when I say I am doing the best I can to write and update.**  
 **This chapter is less impressive than I had been hoping, but hopefully it's better than nothing.**

 **Thank you all so much for leaving such lovely notes and comments. :) They pushed me to just keep going, even when I felt like I could barely type another word. There is some stuff in here that I'm sure a lot of you have been waiting anxiously for - yay! Please read the Author's Note at the bottom for info on updates.**

 **And a special shout-out to Theekshana, who has been the loveliest supporter one could wish for.**

 **Hopefully you guys enjoy!**

* * *

She sat shivering in a room that smelt of herbs and salty-sweet blood, cupping a hand over the mug of steaming liquid and feeling like her head was going to split apart at the seams at any moment.

"What did I miss?" she croaked.

Audriel crouched opposite to her, deep purple half-moons underneath her eyes. "Quite a bit. Gandalf has set out to Minas Tirith, along with one of the two remaining hobbits - Pippin."

"What of the others?" Tauriel's fingers swirled along the edges of the fingernails on the opposite hand, tracing the ragged edges that had been bitten to the quick over the course of the past few hours.

Brilliant green eyes narrowed to slits, far too knowing for Tauriel's taste. She dropped her gaze away.

"They too set to ride out. We will not be joining them." Audriel rose fluidly, though oddly enough she seemed rather off balance once she gained her feet. "Drink it all." The latter was delivered in a mildly chiding manner, and Tauriel grimaced before downing the rest of the contents of the mug.

"What did Mithrandir say?" she inquired, feeling the rasp in her throat lessen somewhat.

A pause; the atmosphere grew heavier.

"Nothing of importance," Audriel finally replied lightly, her pupils swelling until they nearly engulfed the green.

Tauriel closed her eyes for a long moment, too weary to try and fight for more information. The ache in her head was surging painfully in time to the beat of her heart, and the more she tried to ignore it the more prominent it became.

Abruptly, she slammed the mug down onto the floor. "Where is Legolas?"

Audriel actually flinched, her hand jerking back towards her throat. "I imagine he is preparing to leave," she said, a rolling storm of emotions thinly veiled behind her eyes.

Tauriel fidgeted for a long moment, itching to get up and try to do something - anything - but knowing she could not. "Could you tell him I wish to see him?"

Audriel swallowed jerkily. "Very well." Her words were ice-cold. "I will send for him."

And she was gone.

* * *

 _Take her by the safest road. A ship lies anchored in the Grey Havens. It waits to carry her across the sea - the last journey of Arwen Undomiel._

She stared blankly out into the green forest, wondering why she had not felt this before.

This surge of _knowingness_ \- for that was the only way she could think to describe it - so much greater than any of the wispy strings of premonition she had had before.

The horse moved liquid-like underneath her, muscles rippling underneath the velvety coat. A gentle breeze picked at the hood of Arwen's cloak.

 _Is this what Ada and the others feel?_ she wondered.

And then the rush rose higher and higher, and her breath caught in her throat as the world faded away and then bloomed again, bright and rosy, once more.

A boy - young, still a child - running past. The walls were rough grey stone, and the sound of his bare feet hitting the stone was soft.

He turned a corner, laughing, and jumped into a pair of waiting arms.

Aragorn - older, with smatterings of grey hairs in his beard - and a smile that was still, and would always be, the same.

He spun the boy around, laughing now, and the sound sent chills racing down her spine.

The boy looked over his shoulder, eyes big and brown, and met Arwen's gaze.

She sucked in a breath, aching inside, and saw the Evenstar hanging around his neck, and she was both glad and indescribably saddened.

"My son," she whispered, closing her eyes. A tear slid down her cheek, sliding past her still parted lips, and then down until it splattered against the rich brown soil.

Words echoed in her ears.

 _There is nothing for you here, only death._

She opened her eyes, blinking away the dropets clinging to her eyelashes.

They were gone.

"Lady Arwen?"

Her gaze shifted to the elf currently gazing up from her.

"We cannot delay," Figwit continued, a note of apology in his voice.

She looked at him for a second longer, heart racing wildly, and then turned her horse and fled.

"My lady!" she heard him cry, but did not respond.

She was going to find her father.

* * *

Tauriel folded her hands in her lap, biting the insides of her cheeks until they began to bleed. "Do you know what she did?" she asked Legolas, her eyes steady and almost pleading.

Legolas was pulled taught as a bowstring right before it snapped. "What do you mean?" His tone was wary.

"How did she pull me out of my own prison?" Tauriel clarified. "I was most certainly doomed - Sauron will ever be stronger than me, even when he is inside my own mind and I should rightfully be in charge."

"I don't know," Legolas answered honestly. "She told us to hold you down, started mumbling things, and then collapsed. Please," he hurried to add, "I did it only because she seemed to believe it was the only way to save you."

Tauriel's eyes flickered. "She changed something - inside me. I feel - _wrong_."

"She said she shut the part of your mind that allows you to see the future and communicate with others down. Audriel said that it was the only way to get Sauron out."

Her fingers curled up into her palm, nails biting into the calloused flesh. She was still so very weak. Every time her body began to heal, something else happened. "Did she say how it will affect me otherwise?"

He shook his head. "No."

Tauriel closed her eyes, sorting through this information. "She got me out, at least. I must be thankful for that." It was strange, though. Once, she would have given most anything to get rid of her "gift"; now, she felt somewhat disappointed she would not be able to learn to control it. She leaned forward, a slight frown on her face. "How did she get me to wake? There was nothing but darkness, stretching out into infinity, and then the sun rose once more."

Legolas coughed, looking torn between guilt and sheepish pride that his actions had helped. "Mithrandir gave me a potion of sorts to give you. You woke some time later." His lips quirked somewhat in mingled affection, amusement, and disgust as he remembered her reaction to seeing his face.

Tauriel paled. "What was in it?" she demanded, a note of panic in her voice.

Legolas winced - he had not even considered whether or not the mix had contained something potentially dangerous to her system, even after the previous turn of events. "Gandalf said it was safe."

Tauriel remained tensed for a long moment, then relaxed somewhat. She trusted the wizard enough now to let it go at that. Whatever his wishes were, she was quite certain they did not involve tearing her apart mentally and physically. "I am sorry that I took up so much of your time and energy. There is too much at stake for you all to be so caught up in what happens to me."

Legolas looked at her for a long moment, seeming as if he was on the brink of saying something.

An awkward silence fell, Tauriel eventually staring down at her hands and beginning to pick at her fingernails.

Finally, Legolas cleared his throat, seeming rather embarrassed. "I am glad you are feeling better. It is hard for us all to see you in such a state."

Tauriel eyed him for the space of several heartbeats, then let her gaze drop. "I am thankful as well - particularly for your and Audriel's assistance."

A glimmer of irritation at that - so small that, had she not been watching for it, she would not have seen it at all.

"You are set to leave on the morrow," Legolas said abruptly. "Audriel is greatly reluctant to go, though she says she trusts your word. I wish you all the luck one may have."

He turned to leave, then stopped, faltering.

Tauriel looked at him, eyebrows raised in question. Her cuticles were tender and bloody; she forced herself to stop touching them with great effort.

"I will - miss you," he said, ridiculously awkward despite all his many centuries, and rushed from the room.

Tauriel stared at the spot he had been standing in for a long time, lips pursed slightly, not sure exactly what to do. There was an odd fluttering in her chest, one she hurriedly tried to smother.

Finally, she closed her eyes, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth.

It had not been what she expected.

She was certainly not complaining, though.

* * *

"Tell me what you have seen."

He stared at her, a iron-clad fist squeezing at his heart, and slowly rose. Denial, horror, and detached acceptance all flashed through him, turning his blood to fire and then ice. "Arwen."

She stood before him, eyes flashing, and he knew that everything had changed. "You have the gift of foresight. _What did you see?_ "

He swallowed, and reached for words, tried one last time to change her mind - for though it was selfish, he would do most anything to see her safe, and the path that could have once led her to happiness was fading away more every day.

"I looked into your future, and I saw death," he said evenly.

She straightened to her full height and looked at him.

Her gaze said more than most words could.

"But there is also life," she cried. "You saw there was a child! You saw my _son_!"

He bowed his head. "That future is almost gone."

"But it is not lost," she said, her voice gentler now, the fire fading.

"Nothing is certain." He sat, body aching, and wondered if he had spoiled everything all over again.

Arwen knelt, touching his face gently. She was not angry at him, he knew. "Some things are certain, though. If I leave him now, I will regret it forever." She paused, eyes begging him to understand - and despite himself, he did. And then, firmly, with a note of command that was altogether new for her - and yet he knew it, recognized the tone as it flitted down through the ages - she spoke. "You _know_ it is time."

* * *

Audriel scowled down at the map she was currently holding, teeth gritted so hard she could feel them cracking ever so slightly.

 _...not enough._

 _You knew then. Why did you not act?_

 _Not enough time. Never enough time -_

 _She needs you._

 _You need her._

 _You need what she has._

 _You know it._

 _Weakling._

And then silence within the deep recesses of her mind, leaving her shaking with fury that she could not act on, because she would be fighting herself.

Standing rigidly, Audriel folded the map and tucked it into her belt.

The eagles would not be pleased, she was sure. Such honorable beings would not deign to approve of her.

It was something of a wonder the wizard had managed to procure their help.

She sighed, the huff of air as it left her lungs sending small tendrils of hair flying.

 _Almost time._

She checked her weapons, the bag of supplies, and slipped out the door.

* * *

Gimli stared at Legolas and smothered a few less-than-helpful words.

For all the elfling's talk about his bravery, he certainly seemed to lack it in several departments.

"You should have just told her," the dwarf finally blurted, words boiling up from within, _mostly_ unbidden.

Legolas's head jerked upwards, a flush spreading over his cheeks like wildfire racing across snow.

Gimli almost snickered.

"What do you mean?" Legolas demanded.

"You've fairly worried yourself sick. Just tell her, before she leaves, whatever it is." Gimli bit his tongue in a momentous effort to keep several other comments to himself, as most of them contained thinly veiled insults.

Legolas still had a halfway-guilty look in his eyes, making Gimli wonder if perhaps there was something else going on here that he didn't know about. "What did you do this time?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nothing!" Legolas rushed to say.

Gimli eyed him with a certain measure of disbelief. "Surely something has caused you to have a nervous breakdown. For your sake, I certainly hope so. For goodness sakes, all you have to say is goodbye."

"I already said goodbye."

Gimli quirked a brow with interest. "And?"

"Nothing."

"What did you say?"

Legolas crumpled somewhat. "I told her I would miss her," he finally muttered.

Gimli cackled, the sound short and sharp, suddenly understanding why the elf was panicking so. Tauriel did not exactly seem the sort to encourage such declarations. "What did she say?"

"I don't _know_ ," Legolas said, his voice rising somewhat. "I left."

Gimli very nearly burst out laughing at that, but sobered somewhat as he saw how utterly miserable the elf looked. "You didn't stay to see how she'd react?"

"No. I ran as fast as I could in the other direction - metaphorically, of course. I was worried she would become angry."

The dwarf snorted out through his nose. "Best go and fix this right away," he advised. "Find her, and explain. She's a reasonable lass."

Legolas looked at the floor. "That wasn't all I was going to tell her."

Gimli stared at him for a long moment, finally realizing the significance of their little encounter. "Get going, then," he urged, softening the timbre of his voice somewhat. "Go and talk to her. You can't possibly muck it up any more than she did before."

Legolas glanced upwards, lips twisted into a half-grimace. "When did you become so . . . _well informed_ on this?"

Gimli grinned. "I have my ways."

* * *

Audriel opened the door somewhat abruptly, staring up into Legolas's face with an expression of vague distaste.

"What?" she snapped, ill at ease.

"Tauriel," the princeling said, his voice softening on the word in a way that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up straight. "Do you know where she is?"

Audriel's general demeanor fairly screamed _go away_ , but she still answered him. "Yes."

Legolas gestured in an indication he wished to come inside. "May I see her?"

Audriel did not move. "No."

He seemed somewhat taken aback by that, eyes widening in confusion for a brief second and then clearing in irritated understanding. "I wish to tell her something. I would ask that you move aside."

She cocked her head, eyes glinting dangerously. "And if I refuse? What then, princeling? You cannot hope to stand against me, and would not dare risk Tauriel's fury even if you could."

"If you refuse, it will inevitably come back to haunt you," Legolas said flatly. His eyes were flinty grey; anger had turned his jaw to stone and his back was as straight as a sapling tree.

"Another ghost dancing along behind me will matter little," Audriel responded lightly, looking unconcerned. "Tauriel is far too weary to deal with anything else at this time. She is sleeping, preparing to travel back to Rivendell. When she wakes, I will tell her you asked for her." Her brows came together in the middle of her forehead, slanting and dark, her posture suddenly threatening. "Go."

And he went, though he cursed himself for his weakness, and would regret that particular choice for many a sleepless night.

Audriel stared after him, eyes poison-green and narrowed to slits.

Watching.

 _Knowing_.

Tauriel would never realize he had come, and though there was a sliver of guilt burrowed deep down into her heart, she let the darkness flood over it, drowning away any life it might have had left.

The sound the door made, as it slammed shut once more, echoed with finality.

Inside, Tauriel looked up from her careful removal of the stitches in her old wounds - disgustingly happy to see her mother, and it was _foolish_ \- and half-smiled.

She was truly happy, almost, still dancing in the euphoria escaping Sauron had brought her. But happiness was always fleeting - Audriel had learnt that lesson well.

"Who was that?" Tauriel asked.

"No one important," Audriel said calmly. She could have fooled even herself, and she wondered briefly if perhaps she had. Her lies had twisted around her in endless coils, wrapping tight around her neck and slowly strangling her. "Are you ready?"

Tauriel shifted, tightening a knot and snapping the string with her teeth. "Aye."

Audriel nodded sharply, burying all emotions that could present a problem. "Let us go, then."

And they did.

* * *

 _"From the ashes a fire shall be woken; a light from the shadows shall spring. Renewed shall be the blade that was broken, and the crownless again shall be king."_

Elrond looked at the sword, his heart heavy. It glinted silver, picking up strands of light as the moon rose high in the night sky. Razor sharp, even as it lay in pieces, it was a dangerous memory.

"Reforge the sword, _Ada_ ," Arwen urged, gentle and firm.

He turned to look at her for a long moment.

Something shone bright in her eyes for a single heartbeat, and she began to speak once more. "They are coming, _Ada_ ," she said. "Tauriel is coming here, and her mother is with her. They know what must be done, now."

Lord Elrond felt his heart turn to stone in his chest.

Anger, fear, gladness, expectation - so many emotions he lost count flitted through him. He did his best to ignore them all.

Wordlessly, he turned and walked away.

* * *

 _She lifted a finger to her lips, air hissing between her teeth as she stared at him._

 _"Shhhh," she said, eyes bright and dancing as she looked at him from between the iron bars of her prison. "They don't know you're here, do they?"_

 _He did not respond._

 _Standing motionless, he met her gaze without flinching._

 _Abruptly, her teeth bared and she lunged forward, throwing her body against the unforgiving surface of the metal. "Answer me, weakling!"_

 _Gildyril was breathing raggedly, blood trickling from the sides of her mouth._

 _She hated him._

 _Truly hated him._

 _Thranduil could see it in the glittering of her eyes and the way her mouth twisted when he met her gaze without a trace of fear._

 _Once, he had been scared._

 _Scared of what she knew and what she could do, scared that she could gather the threads of his life in her hands and twist them into something unrecognizable._

 _Now, he felt little more than pity for this creature, once an elf, fallen to such darkness._

 _He folded his hands._

 _"Tell me," he said, "what do you know about those of your line? What have you seen?"_

 _She spat at his feet, the substance more blood than spittle. Rather than reddish, it was a murky brown._

 _"Everything," she said. "I've seen everything." Her voice rose pleadingly, even as her eyes grew slitted and sly. "Let me out, Elvenking. Let me out and I will show you."_

 _He did not even bother to think it over. "No."_

 _It was always this way, with her. She would rarely, if ever, give him the information he sought, forever saying he must yield and give e her what she wanted - her freedom - something he would never be willing to grant her._

 _Out of her cage, she could destroy them all._

 _She screamed at him in rage, slamming herself against the bars of the prison. Her voice rose and rose, high enough that he feared she would damage her vocal cords._

 _Perhaps she already had._

 _He could barely stand to watch her destroy her own body, some days._

 _Others he would stare dispassionately while she beat herself bloody._

 _She finally stopped, heaving for breath, the skin all across her forehead scraped raw._

 _"I hate you," she whispered, sagging against the bars._

 _A twinge of pity hit him._

 _"I am sorry you must endure this," he forced himself to say. "But with Audriel gone, and her daughter here to stay, I must try my best to uncover the information I seek. Surely you understand."_

 _Her lip curled upwards in disgust. "I will never understand what drives you and your kind."_

 _Sudden weariness hit him. "We are kin, you and I, though not by blood. I have only the greatest admiration for those you see as your only kin."_

 _She stared at him, eyes big and green and pure evil. Her hair hung in great mats of off-white around her face, the most prominent sign of her madness - once, it had been a brilliant red._

 _And then it all faded._

 _"Thranduil?" she whispered, looking fearful, eyes darting around. She scrambled away, backing towards the wall behind her. "What's happening?" She lifted a hand to her head, wiping away blood, and swallowed convulsively. "Did I do something terrible again?"_

 _He smiled almost sadly then, knowing that when in her most lucid moments Gildyril was the kindest, sweetest being one could ever wish to meet. They had been friends, once, a good bit before Audriel had vanished._

 _But her moments of sanity were few and far between, now. He could no longer risk even reaching through and clasping her hand, as he once had, in an effort to bring her some comfort._

 _"No,_ mellonamin _," Thranduil said softly. "You did nothing. You fell and hurt your head. I was asking you questions, about your family and what will happen to them. What did you see?"_

 _She bit down on her already bleeding lip, making him wince. "I - saw fire. And green eyes - many pairs." She closed her eyes, looking pained, and then gasped, opening them once more. They sparkled brilliantly now, filled with gladness - so much so that it near took his breath away. "Come here," she pleaded softly. "Please. I want to tell you something."_

 _He hesitated._

 _Knew that this was utter madness, but also was desperate to understand why she was so happy._

 _"Very well," he murmured, and stepped towards her, his boots loud on the stone floor._

 _She moved forward, liquid-like, all her old grace returning. He could still remember seeing her fight - he had been quite young - and thinking that she was like a live flame, burning everything in her path to the ground._

 _Her reddened skin pressed against the metal as she leaned close, mouth inches from his ear._

 _"Your grandson," she whispered, joy still flitting across her face. "He will be like you - a king."_

* * *

The book fell from her hands, thudding to the ground with finality.

Her lips were cracked and dry, eyelashes dotted with remnants of tears.

Elrond bent, picking the book up even as Arwen began to reach for it. Closing it carefully, he set it aside and then reached for her hands, dropping them almost immediately.

"Your hands are cold," he said softly. "The life of the Eldar is leaving you."

She smiled at him, exhausted looking. "This was my choice, Ada. Whether by your will or not, there is no ship now that can bear me hence."

And that was when he knew most that everything he cared about rested on the shoulders of a hobbit, journeying towards a volcano with a creature that was clearly underneath the Ring's spell, and a friend who could doom or save them both.

The forge would glow bright that night.

* * *

 _Erin ennor pelia gwathand,_  
 _nan annn rovail môr rimmol._  
 _I vinas gîr. Nan serch erain_  
 _manadh anglenna. I echui_  
 _I Firn. I lû Gwedwerwaith tôl:_  
 _Ne Gond Erech adylithar;_  
 _Lastathar romru ath emyn._  
 _Man gerel rom? Man estol hain_  
 _E thinnu thind, i 'waith ú-rîn?_  
 _I chîl pen amman gwestanner._  
 _O Forven telitha. Baur horth'._  
 _Athratha Fen nadh Raid i Firn._

* * *

"Now listen carefully," Gandalf hissed in Pippin's ear. "Lord Denethor is Boromir's father. To give him news of his beloved son's injury and possible death would be most unwise. And do not mention Frodo or the Ring. And say nothing of Aragorn either. In fact, it's better if you don't speak at all, Peregrin Took."

Pippin looked mildly offended at that, but had long since stopped fighting the wizard's every wish.

They entered the hall, and for a moment Pippin could see nothing. Then his eyes flitted away towards the other end, focusing on the man seated in a black chair.

"Hail Denethor, son of Exthelion, lord and steward of Gondor," Gandalf called. "I come with tidings in this dark hour and with counsel."

The man rose. Pippin saw shadows of Boromir in his face - perhaps once he had been handsome, but no longer.

"Perhaps you come to explain this," the steward spat. He grasped at something at his side and then lifted it high.

Gandalf's sudden and intake of breath told Pippin that he knew exactly what it was.

"Perhaps," Denethor continued, "you come to tell me why my son is dead."

The wizard looked bewildered at that. "Your son is not, to my knowledge, dead."

"I don't believe you," Denethor snarled.

Pippin too was surprised, for last he had heard Boromir was alive and still traveling on to meet with Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli.

But the horn...

Memories flashed bright for a moment, and then he stepped forward. "Boromir died to save us, my kinsman and me. He fell defending us from many foes."

"Pippin!" Gandalf did not sound pleased at all - Pippin's enforcement of what Denethor believed as truth clearly did not sit well with him.

"I offer you my serivce, such as it is, in payment of this debt," Pippin continued, ignoring the wizard.

Denethor's eyes narrowed. "This is my first command to you: how did you escape and my son did not, so mighty a man was he?"

"The mightiest man may be slain by one arrow, and Boromir was pierced by many."

Denethor's hand crept upwards to his mouth, and a choked sound burst from him.

It took Pippin a moment to realize that the man was sobbing - great, body-shaking sobs that did not seem to be born from any true grief.

"Get up," Gandalf snapped, looking incensed. He turned to Denethor. "My lord, there will be a time to grieve for Boromir, but it is not now. War is coming. The enemy is on your doorstep. As steward, you are charged with the defense of this city. Where are Gondor's armies? You still have friends. You are not alone in this fight. Send word to Theoden of Rohan - light the beacons."

Denethor straightened, face folding into harsh lines. "You think you are wise, Mithrandir. Yet for all your subtleties you have not wisdom. Do you think the eyes of the White Tower are blind? I have seen more than you know. With your left hand you would use me as a shield against Mordor. And with your right you would seek to supplant me. I know who rides with Théoden of Rohan. Oh yes. Word has reached my ears of this Aragorn, son of Arathorn. And I tell you now, I will not bow to this Ranger from the North, last of a ragged house long bereft of lordship." He was fairly spitting by the time the last word had fallen from his mouth, anger clouding his eyes.

"Authority is not given to you to deny the return of the king, steward," Gandalf said sharply.

Denethor stood. "The rule of Gondor's is mine, and no other's!" Glaring bitterly at the two for a long moment, he collapsed back into the high-backed chair.

Gandalf looked at him for a long moment, disgust clear on his face, and then turned without another word and walked away.

As soon as they had exited the hall, the wizard began to speak in hurried undertones.

"Come. All has turned to vain ambition. He would even use his grief as a cloak. A thousand years this city has stood." The entered the courtyard, the cobblestones rough underneath their feet. "Now, at the whim of a madman, it will fall. And the White Tree, the tree of the king, will never bloom again.

Pippin frowned. "Why are they still guarding it?"

"They guard it because they have hope. A faint and fading hope that one day it will flower. That a king will come and this city will be as it once was, before it fell into decay. The old wisdom borne out of the West was forsaken. Kings made tombs more splendid than the houses of the living, and counted the old names of their descent dearer than the names of their sons." He walked to the edge of the wall. "Childless lords sat in aged halls, musing on heraldry or in high, cold towers, asking questions of the stars. And so the people of Gondor fell into ruin. The line of kings failed. The White Tree withered. The rule of Gondor was given over to lesser men.

Pippin frowned harder - it seemed a terrible story. He followed Gandalf to the edge of the wall and peered over, recoiling almost immediately.

Blood-red clouds roiled dangerously over the mountains, moving towards Gondor.

"Mordor," he half-whispered.

"Yes. There it lies. This city has ever dwelt in the sight of its shadow."

"A storm is coming."

"Nay. This is not the weather of the world. This is a device of Sauron's making. A broil of fume he sends ahead of his host. The Orcs of Mordor have no love of daylight, so he covers the face of the sun to ease their passage along the road to war. When the Shadow of Mordor reaches this city, it will begin."

Pippin reached for lightheartedness, almost succeeding. "Well, Minas Tirith, very impressive. So where are we off to next?"

Gandalf turned slowly to face him. "Oh, it's too late for that, Peregrin. There's no leaving this city. Help must come to us."

* * *

Tauriel stumbled to the solid, blessedly motionless earth, her stomach fairly in her throat.

Audriel followed suit, sliding away from the smooth, golden-brown feathers without a second thought.

"Thank you," Tauriel choked out, managing to meet the great eagle's eyes. "You have truly helped us."

The eagle looked at her for a very, _very_ long moment.

Tauriel did her best not to flinch.

Caramel eyes rimmed in fiery gold remained fixed upon her own for a long enough time period that she began to wonder if there was something well and truly wrong.

Then it ducked it's head, regal and wise, and turned, wheeling around and taking flight.

The heavy beat of it's mighty wings made the air around them seem to pulse and echo, and for a long moment she stared after it in wonder.

Then Audriel doubled over abruptly, and for a half-second Tauriel wondered if she was dry-heaving before realizing that she was merely checking her boots for something.

With a weak flourish, Audriel pulled a piece of parchment from her boot and unfolded it, reading something and then replacing it without a word.

Together, they turned to stare down at the sprawling expanse of buildings.

"Welcome back to Rivendell," Audriel said sourly, and began the trek downwards.

* * *

Lord Elrond felt them before he could actually see or hear them.

The bitterness that filled his mouth was unmistakable.

Minutes passed, and then finally they came into view.

They moved as one.

Even now, seeing such a thing sent an arrow straight through his heart, for the past seemed to be playing out before his eyes once more.

Tauriel walked with a pronounced limp, but even so her steps were certain. She moved with a confidence she had lacked but months before.

And Audriel . . .

 _Audriel_.

She was as small as he had remembered, and yet as sharp as a freshly-hewn blade. Even from a distance, he could see the blood-red ripple of her hair and the way her brows slanted dark over her eyes that were burning, always burning.

He inhaled deeply.

Calmed himself.

It was time.

There were some things he had put off long enough.

* * *

 **Again, I am so sorry for this terrible insufficient update. My update schedule is still up in the air (previously, it was the first Wednesday of every month) but I'm doing my best to fall back into the rhythm. It has been really hard to find the energy to write these past few weeks, unfortunately, so I'm rather behind.  
Chapters will probably be posted as soon as they are finished. They won't be as "polished" as I'd like, but I hate to make you guys wait so long. :( **

**The poem in this chapter is not mine. It's Tolkien's poem " _The Words of the Seer_ ".**

 **Next chapter: Quite a lovely not-so-little scene between Elrond, Audriel, Tauriel, and maybe Arwen. We also find out where Boromir's headed and hear more from Legolas and Aragorn.**

 **Thank you all so much for reading! As ever, I love reading you guys' comments. ;)**


	44. Spiderwebs

**Well, good news - it looks like I'm finally going to fall back into my normal updating schedule (first Wednesday of every month) if things continue to go according to plan! Thank you all so much for your lovely notes. ;)**

 **Gabriellaaa and Guest, here's your update!**  
 **unicorn682006, thank you so much! I apologize for the delay in updating, but hopefully you enjoy this chapter as much as the last ones.**  
 **Warriorheart5, thank you! Things have calmed down a bit, thankfully, and I hope to get back to writing as I usually did so y'all don't have to wait so long. ;) And yeah, Audriel can definitely be scary at times. This chapter has quite a bit of her, though.**  
 **annie - yup, and it's going to come back to bite him! Although to be fair, it wasn't really his fault at the end, Audriel was being her usual snotty self LOL.**

 **This chapter has two new characters introduced (though one had made a very brief appearance in a flashback previously) - pleased don't kill me. ;P We're not quite at the battle yet, but we're getting there! Again, I'm having to tweak some things, particularly the timeline, in order to make it all fit together better.**

 **Hopefully y'all enjoy!**

* * *

Boromir dismounted painfully, the burn of half-healed wounds as they were stretched taught pushed to the back of his mind.

Already, the noise of the courtyard was beginning to grind upon his nerves. He had heard little but silence since his injury, and the sudden noise was not quite welcome.

The horse huffed out heavy breaths behind him, but followed willingly as Boromir wound his way through the crowd, searching for someone - anyone - he knew.

And then someone shouted after him, their voice strong and familiar. He turned, dropping the reins in disbelief, paying no heed to the sudden surge of agony.

"Boromir," they called again.

 _Comrade._

 _Friend._

 _And..._

"You're still here," Boromir said, shock zinging through his veins, mingled with crushing relief.

She grinned at him, her face as windworn as ever, triumph sparkling in eyes that he had once compared to obsidian - dark as night and as sharp as a razor when she so wished. "Aye. I am."

* * *

Audriel let the darkness sink low inside her, let it coil up tight inside her chest and felt it begin to slumber.

She could not risk a mistake.

Not now.

And most especially not here.

Tauriel was breathing deeply beside her, face taught with what Audriel assumed was pain - and it sent sparks of worry skipping across the icy surface of her heart.

"Where is he?" Audriel muttered, eyes raking the general area.

"I have to find Arwen," Tauriel said, sounding concerned. "I have to see if she is well."

"We have to find Elrond first," Audriel responded tersely.

"There is no need. I am already here."

Audriel whirled, hands on the hilts of the daggers at her belt. "So I see."

His face was emotionless, lined a bit more than it had been the last time she had seen him up close. His eyes had not changed a bit, though, and she found the shadow in her blood cringing away from the steady, burning light they seemed to hold.

Blood they might share, but little else.

Tauriel opened her mouth, on the verge of saying something, but took a step backwards. "My lord." The words seemed to fall heavy from her lips, perhaps even reluctantly. "I beg your pardon for leaving before I have properly greeted you, but where is Arwen?"

There was a small, almost imperceptible shift in his expression. "She remains in her chambers. Take care - she is much weakened."

Tauriel nodded in understanding once, and half-turned.

Her gaze lingered on Audriel, questioning.

Can I go? she seemed to be asking, and Audriel felt something inside her unfurl at the silent question.

This - what was _this_?

But she nodded, though she wanted nothing more than to drag her daughter closer and tell her that the elf lord standing in front of them was little more than a monster, in his own special way.

They both watched her move away, limping slightly.

This girl, this final piece of the puzzle - a piece that did not seem to quite fit in anywhere, and yet was much sought after by both Light and Dark and the Void that was the woodland.

Audriel turned back to Elrond and found him scowling at her with fervidity she found she almost welcomed.

"How ... original," she managed to sneer through the blanket of vague, fuzzed-out fear that had somehow draped itself over her.

Why was she scared? she wondered at herself.

She had never been scared before.

Perhaps it was this strange, fragile morality she had found herself considering more and more lately.

"Why are you here, Seena?"

"Why do you ask when you already know the answer?"

"By all rights, I should strike you down here and now, and hold Tauriel for questioning - for it seems she too has been seduced by a family member she wishes to trust and yet cannot."

A arrow-head of pain shot through her chest at his words, but she kept her face smooth. "She has nothing to do with what you see as my crimes."

"But doesn't she?" His eyes were dark and steady and knowing - far too knowing - any trace of anger that might have been there before vanished. "Even all those years ago, she was what Gildyril sought. Gildyril - _mori ohtar_. You knew that."

"I knew nothing for certain," Audriel snapped. "I was young and scared, and she offered me companionship. By the time I knew more, it was too late. And how could you possibly believe I honestly wanted to have a child? After what I knew, and what I had done and experienced? Even then, I had blood staining my hands."

"It does not excuse your actions."

She sent him a look as freezingly cold as the peeks of the mountains the Fellowship had once traversed. "And yet you are perfectly happy to excuse your own?"

A shadow passed over his facial features. "I will spend every day of my life regretting that."

She could have spat at his feet then, if only to see his face. "Oh, yes. Because let us not forget that, when it comes right down to it, this is all because of _you_."

* * *

"So I imagine this is just a ceremonial position. I mean, they don't actually expect me to do any fighting, do they?"

Gandalf coughed out a bit of smoke and turned to face Pippin. "You're in the service of the steward now. You're going to have to do as you're told Peregrin Took."

Pippin fidgeted, then poured a glass of water for the wizard and handed it to him.

"Ridiculous hobbit. Guard of the Citadel! Thank you," he added, and took a drink.

"There's no more stars. It is time?" Pippin asked, gazing upwards at the sky.

"Yes," Gandalf said.

"It's so quiet."

"It's the deep breath before the plunge."

"I don't want to be in a battle," Pippin admitted, "but waiting on the edge of one I cannot escape is even worse." Gandalf stood and strode over to join him. "Is there any hope, Gandalf, for Frodo and Sam?"

"There was never much hope. Just a fool's hope, really. Our Enemy is ready. His full strength gathered. Not only Orcs, but men as well. Legions of Haradrim from the south, mercenaries from the coast. All will answer Mordor's call. This will be the end of Gondor as we know it. Here the hammer-stroke will fall hardest. If the river is taken, is the garrison at Osgiliath falls, the last defense of this city will be gone."

"But we have the White Wizard," Pippin said, gazing up at Gandalf. "That's got to count for something. Right?"

And the wizard smiled - wearily. "Perhaps. Perhaps it does."

* * *

 _She peered down into the cradle, face shining in the silver moon-light as it streamed through the half-opened window._

 _The girl child - the elleth - cracked open her eyes, lips curling into a half smile and exhaled a small whimper of a sound._

 _"Hush," Seena whispered. She brushed a fingertip against the child's lips. "You need not fear. Soon this will all be over, and we will be safe. Soon there will be no more blood spilt upon a land that yearns for peace, no more weeping in the night as so very many mourn for the ones they loved. Soon I can hold you close and there will be no pull to Shadow."_

 _Silence, broken only by the breath of wind outside._

 _Somewhere, a cricket chirped once and then fell silent once more._

 _Seena looked at the girl, eyes tracing features she thought might look like her own, one day._

 _Dark red hair spilled in long spirals over her shoulder as she leaned forward, lips hovering above her daughter's forehead without ever quite touching._

 _She stood, then, moving cat-like across the room to a shelf and removing a small, leather bound sheaf of papers._

 _She sat, reaching for a quill and ink, and turned the very last page._

 _Her quill hovered over the end of the page, then moved to the top and dipped low as ink - black as midnight - began to seep into the paper._

Listen well, to those of you who feel as I did centuries ago, and find themselves acting upon those feelings.

For the night is dark and full of terrors, and I did not heed that warning as I should have.

* * *

Pippin dropped the torch with shaking fingers, watching as the fire bloomed, leaping towards him, and then dropped from the beacon and began to move hurriedly away.

The beacon of Amon Dîn roared with licking, devouring flames within minutes, guards were shouting in surprise and some horror.

Miles down the path, another flame sprung up.

Fire answering fire, dancing down the road, calling out - remember the promises you made.

Sitting on the balcony, smoking his pipe, Aragorn's eyes caught at the sudden burst of red-gold.

He stood abruptly and then whirled, racing to the Golden Hall.

"The beacons of Minas Tirith!" he cried, throwing open the doors. "The beacons are lit! Gondor calls for aid!"

Theoden-king looked up from his map, brow creased. Eowyn stood and rushed to Eomer's side, her face pale and anxious as they all waited for his answer.

A long, long pause, and then he spoke.

"And Rohan will answer!" Theoden proclaimed.

Everyone sagged somewhat in relief.

Theoden wasted no time, turning to the men surounding him. "Muster the Rohirrim!" He began to stride out of the hall, steps quick and sure. "Assemble the men at Dunharrow. As many men as can be found. You have two days. On the third, we ride for Gondor and war. Gamling!"

Gamling hastened to his side. "My lord?"

"Make haste across the Riddermark. Summon every able-bodied man to Dunharrow."

He nodded briskly. "I will."

Back in Gondor, Gandalf sat down with a satisfied smile and a new light in his eyes. "And so hope is kindled."

* * *

She stared at him for a long moment and then moved, lightning fast. "Come with me," she said, dragging him to the side, and he had little choice but to follow.

Pushing him into the nearest stairwell, she shoved him back into the wall and glared at him.

"What are you doing here?" Braelyn hissed. "We were all told you were dead!"

Boromir edged slightly closer to the exit. "I was gravely injured - indeed, by all rights I should not be here now. I have returned in hopes of warning my father against the darkness that even now marches onwards towards our home."

She snorted in disgust. "Your father has sunken deep into madness since what he believed to be your demise. Even now, your brother fights a battle he will certainly never win at your sire's orders."

Boromir sucked in a painful breath. "Faramir is not here?"

"Nay. He and his men stand at Osgiliath, though how he keeps their spirits up I do not know."

Boromir made as if to break from their cover. "I must get him out of there."

A thickly muscled arm shot out and sent him stumbling back, agony flaring in his chest.

"You're not going anywhere," Braelyn snarled. "You look dead on your feet. I will not let you walk away knowing you are going to your death."

He looked at her for a long moment, into those coal-black eyes. "I will not let my brother become Orc-fodder."

She scowled, clearly realizing there was little she could do to stop him when it came down to it. "I will clap you over the head before I let you ride out when you will likely fall from the horse within minutes."

He looked at her again and her eyes eventually dropped from his. "You owe me this at least, Braelyn."

She winced, hiding it well - but they both knew it was true. "It is said the White Wizard is here, trying to convince your father to stand and fight. The Beacon was lit earlier on - by a small, ghostly creature, the guards say. We are at war now, whether your father likes it or not. The last thing Gondor needs is the heir of the Steward to die for nothing. I offer you a compromise, of sorts: if the wizard - who everyone says has more authority than your father now - agrees to let you go, I will join you and gladly. Aye?"

A choked, guttural laugh burst from his throat, sending ripples of pain skittering across his skin. "The wizard, of all people, should know why I need to do this. But very well - if that is what it will take, I will do so. I must talk to Gandalf either way."

Braelyn folded her arms and scowled, looking as if she was trying to decide whether or not he would bolt away the second she turned her back. "Good," she said suspiciously.

"Yes," he said. "Good. Now let us go."

* * *

Eowyn lifted the blade high, watching as sunlight danced along the freshly-hewn edges.

Her heartbeat was loud in her chest, thumping wildly at the notion of what she was going to do.

 _Defiance_.

Or freedom, depending on how one looked at it.

She could scarcely believe what she was doing - of what she had decided to do - for in another world, another time, this would have been utter madness.

Yet now, it seemed almost as if this was the wisest course of action.

With a snick of metal sliding along leather, she sheathed the sword.

She looked into the mirror, looked into the highly polished bronze, and inhaled deeply.

She thought she looked like her mother.

Hoped she did, for it was perhaps all she had left.

Did her mother fight?

She did not know.

Could not remember.

Perhaps she had. And perhaps, Eowyn thought, if her mother was watching, she would be proud.

* * *

Leaves blew across the marble floors, making a light scratching sound that set Tauriel's nerves on edge.

"Arwen?" she called, entering through an arched doorway.

Relative silence for a moment, and then the soft, muted slap of bare feet on the hard floor.

"Tauriel," she said, appearing across the room. It was not a question - indeed, her tone was not surprised at all. "I am glad you are here."

"You knew?" Tauriel asked, surprised. Her eyes raked across Arwen's face - she was sickly pale, dark shadows underneath her eyes, her lips cracked and swollen.

 _The Evenstar has fallen._

A vague smile touched Arwen's lips. Her dark hair, unbound to fall across her back and shoulders, rippled slightly in the wind. "Aye. And if I had not known, I could have guessed."

"You are not well." This, too, was not a question, but a statement.

Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. "I am as well as can be expected. You know?" The latter was delivered with a slight tilt of her head.

Tauriel hesitated, reaching for blurry images through the heat-haze that was her mind. "I think so. You are . . . happy?"

"I believe I will be."

It was not very much of an answer, but it was better than nothing.

Tauriel fidgeted for a long moment, then took a step forward. "I was wrong to push you away."

Arwen lifted a slim, dark brow in question. "Right before you left to join the Fellowship?"

"Aye. I am sorry."

Silence - for longer than she would have liked - and then a short, soft sigh. "I realize that you had your reasons," Arwen said. "And yet, it still made me wonder if you did not care for my opinion any longer."

"I am sorry," Tauriel repeated.

Arwen laughed gently. "I bear no grudge over it. You had so much on your mind, and even more trying to tear you apart - I did not fully comprehend it."

"It does not excuse my actions towards you. I regret much from those days - indeed, most everything I look back on was ill-willed."

"Thank you." There was a gentle request in Arwen's eyes that they let the subject drop, and Tauriel did so - albeit a bit reluctantly.

"I must rejoin my mother and your father," she said awkwardly. "Would you care to join us?"

Arwen nodded, moving forward with steps that looked more than a little stilted. "I look forward to speaking to your mother. And I must tell you things, for it is better late than never."

Tauriel grimaced, not quite relishing the idea of having information sprung upon her, nor wanting to watch Audriel rip into one of the few she could consider a friend without pausing to consider what her words might do. "Indeed."

* * *

 _Silence_.

Stretching on, and on, and he could not remember the last time he had heard anything more than the whisper of the wind as it danced around corners, hesitant to disturb anyone more than necessary.

Dust was gathering in the corners, cobwebs being spun across the ceiling as he waited.

 _On._

 _And on._

What was another century, when you had an eternity?

The blade still sat upon his knees, drawn so long ago to fight against something he would never see, would never be able to defeat.

Memories skipped past him - _through_ him - taunting, giggling in his ear as he tried in vain to make them stay, tried to grasp at the burning gladness only have it slip away once more.

 _Surely it will be soon_ , he thought every time he managed to pull himself from the emptiness.

But it had been a long, long time, and they had never come.

He wondered if they ever would.

He had long ago wondered if he truly wanted them to. Here, there was nothing but the rasp of the great branches above him, and the throbbing silence that always seemed to be on the edge of shattering but never truly did.

 _I will wait,_ he had said.

Fool that he was.

He had the occasional nightmare still.

 _A throne of cold marble, hard beneath him, arms grasping the sword until blood ran scarlet down his fingers, and they were all looking at him - waiting, waiting, and he could do or say nothing - history repeating itself, as it always, always did._

He would have to stay until someone came to release him, he knew.

But what if they never did?

* * *

Arwen looked at Tauriel out of the corner of her eye, watching as the red-haired elleth turned a corner with slightly uneven steps.

What would her father have to say?

What was Audriel doing?

And would Tauriel truly wish to hear all of what she knew? There were some secrets that, if blindly scattered to the wind, might well and truly destroy her.

Arwen pushed open a door, and they entered the hall.

Audriel stood mere feet away from Arwen's father, facing him from across a finely-wrought table, every inch of her leanly muscled body stretched to the breaking point.

"You know nothing of the _dae mau'_ ," Audriel was saying harshly. " _Nothing_."

Elrond regarded her with more than a little irritation, then glanced up. "Ah. Arwen - Tauriel. I am glad to see you." The latter, she knew, was mostly directed towards her, and she felt a brief flash of guilt.

"As am I, Ada," she responded gently, trying to keep the weariness from her voice.

Audriel slammed her hands into the tabletop, making the entire thing tremble. "Do you understand what it would mean, to _go back and ask for their help_? They could very well kill me where I stand."

"They will not," Elrond said calmly, turning his attention back to the irate elf. "They have remained utterly closed off from the rest of the world all these years. They need you as much as you need them, Audriel. And you know that this is your only choice." The last bit was delivered with a warning glance, and Arwen felt as if something had already happened that Audriel was not pleased about.

Arwen could hear Audriel grinding her teeth - could see the muscles standing out rigidly in her neck as she seemed to fight against something invisible.

Abruptly, she stepped back.

"I need a horse," she spat. "And goods. If this goes wrong, you will have lost your very last chance - I hope you know that."

And she spun, stalking out of the room without another word.

Tauriel made as if to follow her for a split second, then stopped. She looked torn, but eventually stepped backwards and stood nervously at Arwen's side.

Arwen regarded her carefully.

This bond - did her father realize how dangerous it could be?

Or did he still hope that Audriel could once again find the light?

And how did he hope to keep Audriel from turning everything against them?

* * *

Aragorn glanced back over his shoulder, watching for the space of a heartbeat as Eowyn led a shadowy-gray steed out of the stable and began to place a saddle on the animal's back.

He made a split-second decision, turning to speak to her. "Will you ride with us?"

The look she tossed him was filled with steely determination - and an underlying thread of nervousness.

"Just to the encampment," she answered. "It's tradition for the Women of the Court to bid the men farewell."

He raised a brow at that, and nodded towards the hilt of the sword at her side.

She flushed darkly, but lifted her chin. "I wish to fight as much as any of them." She gestured wildly. "The men have found their captain. They will follow you into battle, even to death. You have given them - us - hope."

She turned away, leading her mount back into the stable.

He did not call after her.

There was not much he could say in reply to that.

* * *

"I must go," Boromir said flatly.

Mithrandir turned from the window, pipe in hand, a scowl upon his face. "And risk everything?"

"Yes." There was no trace of doubt, no hint of his intent wavering. "Faramir does not deserve to stand alone in something that is rightly my own responsibility."

It had always been that way - Faramir was quieter, wise beyond his years, and it made their father furious, often for reasons unknown. He would, quiet honestly, make the better Steward between them - for he could _listen_.

Boromir was the one who rode out to battle, the one who came alive with a blade in-hand.

There was no changing that, though Denethor had surely tried and failed.

Mithrandir exhaled - a great gust of air that he almost expected to send the curtains fluttering - and raised a hand to his head.

The wizard seemed impossibly weary. Boromir knew that he had been stretching himself thin, with all that was going on.

"Very well," Gandalf finally said. "You may go. But I will ride with you, for you cannot be lost to the great pit of shadow now. Faramir, too, needs to be saved - and I can assist much more than you can."

Boromir felt a surge of relief, though others might have felt resentment at the wizard's words.

Faramir would be ushered safely home, if all went well. And then no matter if his father thought him dead - he would demand to know why exactly his brother had been sent out on such a mission.

Once Faramir was safe, he would not hide any longer.

He had had his fill of sitting silently in the shadows.

* * *

Audriel threw her bedroll violently onto the pile of general goods, her face twisted into a vicious sneer.

Curses slid from between her lips almost incessantly, insults that would have made even the most hardened mercenary recoil in horror.

Her heartbeat was like a drum in her chest, thundering like a herd of stampeding horses on the wildlands, beating loud enough that it was all she could hear.

Had she not been bound by a promise, and the fear of what could happen to Tauriel, she would have done her best to kill Elrond then and there - and would not have regretted it for a long, long time.

He had well and truly trapped her, and she hated it.

And now she was riding off to a place she legitimately feared, one she had hoped to never see again - because in her time there, they had torn her apart and put her back together in ways of their choosing.

She feared that if she came back, she would never leave.

But she could not let Elrond know that - refused to let him know exactly how much the _dae mau'_ scared her.

His eyes as he had offered her the two choices - go, and ensure Tauriel's safety and disclusion from any crimes others believed she might have committed, or stay and watch as her daughter's life crumbled to pieces once more - were disgustingly solemn.

As if he was not enjoying every second of this torture inflicted upon her.

He _knew_ , at least a little bit.

That of course changed nothing.

He was proud and wise and everything she loathed with every fiber of her being, much like Thranduil - but without any of the spark the Elvenking had once that had drawn her in.

 _Like a fly caught in a spider's web._

She lashed out, sending a vase hurtling towards the opposite wall.

It shattered into thousands of pieces, falling to the floor with brutal finality.

Audriel's chest heaved as she stared at it, a cry of - _something_ \- rising up in her throat.

Perhaps it was grief.

Grief that no matter how hard she tried, she could not leave this past life behind.

Shaking, she knelt and began to gather the shards, feeling the anger drain from her body, leaving her feeling empty and aching with a great weariness.

She had to talk to Tauriel.

Had to warn her, for she could not let her daughter become to victim to the same things she once had.

* * *

Boromir heard them before he saw them - the rumble of many sets of hooves as they hit the packed earth, mingled with the screams of men and horses alike.

Mithrandir raced along beside him on Shadowfax, Pippin clinging tightly to him.

They crested a hill, and nearly ran head-long into the pack of horses and riders as they ran quite literally for their lives.

The Nazgul dropped down, snatching another pair of lives from the ground and sending them flying off into space. The bodies hit the ground with a crunch that was audible even from where they were.

The riders were almost to safety- almost. They were but a half-mile from the gates of Minas Tirith, but it looked as if none of them would make it home.

"It's Mithrandir!" someone screamed. "The White Rider!"

Boromir ceased searching for his brother, and glanced at Gandalf just in time to see white light mushroom from his staff and spread, racing out to envelop the riders.

The Nazgul were shoved backwards violently, the eerie screams they gave sending chills skittering down Boromir's spine.

And then a rider pushed forward, and his shoulders felt as if a great weight had been lifted from them.

Faramir.

"Mithrandir!" he cried. "They broke through our defenses. They've taken the bridge and the west bank. Battalions of orcs are crossing the river."

Mithrandir wheeled Shadowfax around, his face grim. Boromir followed suit, trying not let his relief blind him to all that was happening around them.

Faramir caught his eye and then froze, doing a double-take. "Boromir?"

Boromir smiled crookedly. "Aye."

"It is as the Lord Denethor predicted! Long has he foreseen this doom!" some random solider screamed, panic clear in his voice.

"Foreseen and done nothing!" Gandalf thundered, looking truly angered.

Farmir growled encouragement to his mount, though the animal was already heavily lathered. "How are you here?" he shouted.

"A friend," Boromir called in answer.

Farmir shook his head in diluted happiness and disbelief, and turned his attention to the stretch of land that was before them.

The Nazgul were still hovering overhead, the heavy beat of their wings sending clouds of dust rising up around them.

They rode in the shadows of death.

* * *

Thranduil gestured for the elf to rise from the stone floor, feeling his heart begin to beat slightly faster despite himself.

Was this it? he wondered.

"My lord," the member of the Guard said, his voice respectful. "We believe we have found the source of the sickness, as you requested."

Thranduil rose from his throne, robes swirling around him. The weight of the crown upon his head suddenly seemed nonexistent.

He moved rapidly towards the Guard, vaguely registering that he must seem half-mad in his desperation.

"Show me," he demanded.

* * *

 **Well, there we have it. I know some of the last scenes aren't as polished as they could have been (and the one with Arwen and Tauriel still seems way off) but I figured y'all would appreciate an update. :)**

 **As ever, reviews or PMs are greatly appreciated!**

 **Until (hopefully) next month!**


	45. Of Midnight

**Soooo I'm back. Finally. *ducks head in shame***

 **I know I'm pretty terrible. And I feel horrible about leaving y'all hanging.**

 **I got several messages wondering if I had given up on TBE - or as you may have noticed, So the End Begins now, eek! Hopefully it isn't too different, but it had more of a ring to it for me - but please know that I am most definitely NOT going to let this story die. Not yet at least LOL. I fully intend on seeing it through, even if it takes a while. :)**

 **Just a quick warning, there is slightly more explicit content towards the end of the chapter. It's by no means super explicit but it is slightly more than I had added into these fics previously.**

 **Thank you to those who reviewed, messaged, ect., over these past few months. I'll let y'all get on to the story. :)**

* * *

 _Shivers wracked her form, her lips blue and cracked. Red hair hung wet and heavy, draping over one eye and down her back. Her clothing was soaked through, molding to her body, and drawing the eye to her stomach - distended with the weight of a new life._

 _"Please," she croaked._

 _Elrond looked at her with horror painted loud across his face. "Sister," he rasped out, and staggered a half step backwards - a delayed reaction._

 _Seena sniffed, swaying dangerously where she stood, and pulled the hunk of hair away from her eye. The water dripping from it had moistened the dried blood surrounding a jagged cut on her cheekbone, and now water was running - pink-tinted - down her face._

 _"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I could not go to home. Not like this."_

 _He was still moving backwards, towards the door, backpedaling as if his very life depended on it. Rain pounded on the roof, a brisk wind whipping across the balcony._

 _"Seena," he said, "what have you done?"_

 _Her shoulders shook hard for a long moment, and he realized she was crying._

 _"I don't know. I don't know. I don't. You have to believe me - I never wanted things to go like this-"_

 _She was holding her hands out, trembling violently, and he looked at them._

 _They were stained with blood._

 _Blood that did not look human or elven._

 _And now the smell that hung heavy on the air began to make slightly more sense, in its own terrible twisted way._

 _"Seena," he said slowly, advancing towards her now, "what is this?"_

 _She recoiled from him, eyes dropping away into a chasm of madness. Green to black in a split-second, and he knew there was little hope that she would reveal anything to him now._

 _He halted, hand outstretched for a long moment and then dropping to his side._

 _"I am sorry," he said flatly, tonelessly, and he meant it, though no one would have believed him. "I cannot help you."_

 _A slight twitch, a twinge of her facial features. He wanted to reach out and wipe away the blood and tears, wanted to brush the strands of hair back from her brow and say that everything would be alright, as he had when they were young and things were different._

 _It cut him to the core._

 _Guilt flamed and burned and twisted inside his chest, fighting to influence his decisions._

 _But he could do nothing, he knew that, even if she did not._

 _It was too late._

 _She was too far gone._

 _And so he lifted his voice and called for the guards._

 _Watched as they pulled her away, her voice rising high in the darkness of the rainy night, and wept a little inside._

 _She would not be jailed - he could not bring himself to do that, even now. But they would take her home, and hopefully her husband would figure out exactly what was happening and bring it to Elrond's attention. They had been friends for as long as he could remember - nay, longer._

 _The darkness in her was even deeper now. Worming its way into her very core. He feared for her child, for the babe that was growing within her womb. He feared that if what he suspected was true it would influence things badly._

 _The night slipped into dawn, and time passed - as it always did, and would ever do._

 _He would not speak to her again until it was far, far too late._

 _It was not his fault, really - he had done what he thought best for all involved, even though it meant sacrificing some things for himself and one he loved._

 _But in the years to come, he would replay that night over and over again in his head and wonder how things would have been if he had done something even a little bit differently._

* * *

Boromir slid from his horse with a slap of sweat-slicked leather, his eyes fixed solely upon his brother.

Faramir was far less focused, eyes darting across the group of riders that had made it back. Measuring, grieving.

"Brother," Boromir began, but Faramir lifted a hand.

"I welcome you," he said somewhat tersely. "I truly do. But I must focus upon other matters now."

Gandalf turned his white stallion around, and Faramir sucked in a deep breath.

Boromir followed his gaze and realized it lay upon the hobbit, mounted up upon Shadowfax's withers.

Pippin ducked his head, embarrassed.

"Faramir?" the White Wizard asked. "This is not the first Hafling to have crossed your path, aye?"

Slowly, Faramir shook his head. "No."

Pippin looked up at that, his face brightening considerably. "You've seen Frodo and Sam?"

He nodded, his face paling somewhat.

"Where?"Gandalf demanded. "When?"

"In Ithilien. Not two days ago." There was a heaviness to him, and shame, and Boromir wondered exactly what had happened.

Pippin looked at the wizard, eyes dancing and a foolish little smile on his lips. Gandalf was smiling too, the corners of his eyes crinkled up as they ofted did when he was pleased.

"Gandalf, they've taken the road to the Morgul Vale."

The relief faded.

"And then the Pass of Cirith Ungol," the White Wizard said heavily, after a long, painful moment.

Faramir nodded, silent.

"What does it mean?" Pippin asked. "What's wrong?"

Gandalf ignored him, dismounting and pulling the hobbit along with him.

"Faramir, tell me everything. Tell me all you know."

* * *

Audriel looked at Tauriel and felt her mouth go dry.

She did not know what to say.

Could no longer read her daughter - her daughter, _hers, all hers_ now - and though it was so very strange and unsettling she knew that it meant she had done her job well.

She reached for Tauriel again, just to be sure, and found nothing.

No glow or darkness.

Nothing.

She was sliding from Tauriel's mind like a flat stone across a sheet of ice.

If she could not glimpse even the smallest shard of Tauriel's mind, then Sauron would not be able to either.

At least, she hoped so.

"Mother," Tauriel said, and Audriel realized her daughter had been trying to gain her attention. "What is it you wish to speak of?"

Her eyes were steady and green, pupils no longer dilated dangerously, though Tauriel's face was still pale and drawn.

What is she thinking?

Audriel cleared her throat.

"I need to tell you something," she said, diving straight into the raging waters. "And it cannot wait."

One of Tauriel's eyebrows drifted upwards. "Aye?"

Audriel glanced backwards, eyes flicking across the finely wrought furniture inside the room. It was a somehow brutal beauty, though she knew even the least delicate of the pieces likely had taken hours upon hours of work by a skilled crafter.

Carefully, she took a step backwards and seated herself, pulling her knees upwards to her chest in a motion she realized belatedly looked extremely vulnerable.

She cleared her throat.

Dropped her legs.

This was perhaps more awkward than she had expected it would be.

"While I am - gone - I would ask it of you that you not trust everything Lord Elrond says or asks you to do."

Tauriel frowned, her brow creasing, deepening the lines that had already begun to appear there. "I believe his intentions to be true. He has spoken wisely oft times before."

Audriel bristled despite herself, choking on vehement accusations - because if she knew, oh if she _knew_ \- and shoving them back down.

"He has more faults then you might believe," she said, sounding utterly calm. "Has he told you of what he did to Seena - the very first Seena, the start of this all?"

Tauriel shook her head.

Audriel laughed somewhat cruelly, losing herself in the emotions roiling underneath the surface and forgetting entirely about her previous decision to remain calm. "I thought not. He does that, you see - puts up a front, a mask, but what lies beneath is something so very different. He cares not if you are blood or friend. If you are not what he wants you to be he will shove you aside. Discard you, _destroy_ you."

Tauriel's eyes had widened somewhat, perhaps at the raw fury in her mother's voice. "What exactly did he do?"

Audriel's hands flew outwards in a gesture of disgust. "She came to him in search of help - alone, scared, heavy with child. And he threw her out." She laughed again, harshly. "Without a second thought. And she had no where else to go..."

Tauriel had almost started leaned backwards, away from Audriel's volatility. There was an edge of what could have been worry in her face, her eyes slightly widened and her brow creased even more.

"What happened?"

Audriel snorted. She was not paying enough attention to Tauriel to know that most of her conviction in what she said was being lost. There was no avid curiosity in Tauriel's tone, no horror in what was being revealed. She wanted to know, but not, it seemed, so she could change her own opinion on Lord Elrond.

But Audriel continued, teeth bared sharp and gleaming white, a predator going in for the kill.

"What happened?" she spat. "The beginning of the end. And every time one of us seems to get close to fixing that which was broken - we fall, and not a one of us has risen again." She met Tauriel's eyes, green on green, pleading with her daughter to _understand_. The floodgates had opened even more and now she was no longer choosing her words at all, merely letting them spill like wine into a goblet. "It was not always this way. There were others, so many others - I did not know because I spent too much time away from my bloodright. You are the last one. He knows that. And I fear that if I leave you here, he will destroy you." A pause, a shuddering intake of breath. "It's been so long, Tauriel. I'm going back to the ones who taught me almost all of what I know. But they twisted me into something I did not want to face in the looking glass, and even now I hear their voices in my head. Taunting. They knew everything. It was never enough. And now I have to go back - he's making me go back -" Her voice rose and broke, falling away into a ragged whisper. "I trusted him in the beginning. Loved him even. It. Was. _Madness_."

And her eyes flashed black, stone-cold and like something from a nightmare, as her face melted and reformed and blood streamed red from her lips where she had bitten the inside of her own mouth.

Outside, the sun dipped below the horizon.

* * *

"Ada?" Arwen stood hesitantly in the doorway, her eyes tracing her father's form as he stood, head bowed, over a table. Scrolls and books were spread out before him, and he looked as defeated as she had ever seen him.

"Aye, _amin lirima tinu_?" he answered, half-turning to face her.

"Where did you send Audriel?" she asked carefully. Her eyelids were heavy, feeling as if they were about to slam shut any moment, but she did not wish to sleep any longer.

Elrond turned, straightening to his full height. "She searches for those who made her what she is now."

Arwen frowned, confusion written over her face. "What do you mean?"

"Gildyril - Gildyril trained her, aye, but that mad creature did not darken her. She found them somehow - perhaps it was a draw through her very blood - and they took her and worked her into something Sauron himself could not have created."

"Then why do you send her back to them? Tauriel says she has changed, truly."

He scowled. "Audriel has seduced Tauriel with the notion of love and a legitimate matriarchal figure. She has changed no more than the Dark Lord has."

"How can you be so sure?" The question was soft, almost gently chiding.

"Because I looked into her mind and could not find a shred of evidence that she has anything but her own interests in mind." He looked at her, eyes vaguely saddened. "I can only hope that things do not worsen, both for her sake and ours."

* * *

The stench of rotting wood and amber sap was nauseating.

Thranduil picked his way carefully towards the goliath-sized trunk, eyes still searching for any potential dangers. He had no way of knowing what exactly was lying in wait.

He stopped, and sucked in a sharp breath.

A darkly pulsing, glistening, wet, somehow evil maw in the trunk of the tree had greeted him.

The elves gathered behind him were silent, weapons drawn, waiting for his command.

He reached out a gloved hand to touch it.

It was hot and slippery.

He jerked back, disgust flitting over his face.

But also, perhaps, relief - for he had at last found something that could potentially aid him in his search for a cure for the woodland.

He turned to the Guards. They were watching him, eyes steady - trusting. He flicked his chin towards the tree and the roiling darkness inside it.

"Cut it out."

* * *

Gimli nudged the horse's sides harder.

He saw the animal's ears go back, and then the world sped up as he clung to the saddle, doing his best to guide the horse until it was alongside Legolas's mount, and then pulling back on the reins.

Legolas glanced sideways, amusement quirking the sides of his mouth upwards.

He, of course - blasted elves - had no trouble in the saddle, rocking in time with the easy, loping strides of his mount as if he was born to it.

Perhaps he had been, Gimli thought snidely.

Dawn was creeping over the horizon, the sun sending glittering rays of light across the dew-draped grass. They had been riding through the night, which seemed rather odd to the dwarf, but Theoden was insistent.

"What do you think they're doing now?" he asked.

Legolas pursed his lips, answering without even asking who the dwarf was referring to - which spoke volumes.

"I have no way of knowing."

Gimli snorted. "Guess then." Audriel's face was still haunting his dreams at night. He wanted to know if he was the only one affected by the elf's words and actions, and thought he likely was not, even if Legolas refused to show it. The elf had been mostly silent and tense ever since the two elleths had left.

A heartbeat passed before Legolas responded.

"I would hope that Lord Elrond is helping Tauriel."

He made no mention of Audriel, and Gimli breathed an internal sigh of relief.

"What about her mother?"

Legolas's shoulders jerked slightly, anger flitting across his face for a brief moment. "I care not about what may happen to her, in truth."

Internally, Gimli was dancing back and forth in glee. This could get even better than he had hoped.

"What did she ever do to you?" he queried carefully.

"Not just to me - to my family. Many things happened, not all of which I have a clear understanding of at this time. My Ada has kept silent about most of the occurrences, and I dare not ask Tauriel or her mother. Audriel is poison - death in the most terrible of forms come to life. An abomination of our kind. I would fall upon my own blade before I let myself drop to her level. Even now, despite her insistence that she is changed and now good" - he spat the words like acid - "she strives to undermine all that is not focused solely upon her. Love cannot be found in her heart, unless it is for herself. I loathe her."

Gimli stared at the elf, blinking several times. "Well. That was - illuminating."

Indeed, it had been, in some ways. Legolas had seemingly let the floodgates open wide, and the words that had poured out of them were brutally honest in a way he had rarely heard from the elf.

He shivered suddenly, letting his mount slow down until he was staring at Legolas's back.

Eyes as green as the forest had flashed bright in his mind for a brief moment.

They were not especially pleased looking.

* * *

 _If you walk the edge long enough, you find yourself wondering what it would be like to take that final step._

 _To feel the earth drop away into nothing._

 _Ashes to ashes, dust to dust._

 _Eventually, we all return._

 _What is so scary about sooner rather than later?_

The quill dropped from icy fingers.

The woman lifted her eyes to the mirror.

Watched her reflection.

Fingered the streak of stark white that had appeared in the sea of scarlet.

* * *

"This is how you would serve your city?" Denethor growled, face twisted in his fury."You would risk its utter ruin?"

Boromir watched from underneath the helm that hid his face, his chest feeling as if someone had dropped a large rock atop it and left him to slowly suffocate.

His father had fallen even further into madness.

"I did what I judged to be right," Faramir said gruffly.

Denethor sneered. "What you judged to be right. Bah! You sent the Ring of Power into Mordor - in the hands of a witless Halfling" - Boromir flinched at that - " no less, when it should have been brought back to the Citadel to be kept safe and hidden, in the dark and deep of the vaults that we do not use, unless at the uttermost end of need.

"I would not use the Ring," Faramir said, his voice rising strong, ringing throughout the hall. "Not of Minas Tirith were falling in ruin and I alone could save her."

Another sneer, somehow more vicious than the one that had preceded it. "Ever you desire to appear lordly and gracious as a king of old. Boromir would have remembered his father's need. He would have brought me a gift - a truly kingly one."

Boromir tried not to let the words cut deep, but they still did.

"Boromir would not have brought the Ring," Faramir snapped, beginning to lose his temper. "He would have stretched out his hand to this thing and taken it. He would've fallen."

Boromir did not flinch at this, at these insults to his character falling from his brother's lips.

They were true.

He had told Faramir, and even if he had not, his character was truly no different than the one Faramir was portraying, even if it did pain him to admit it.

"You know nothing of this matter!" Denethor roared, reeling backwards, nearly falling in his fury.

There was a gleam to Faramir's eyes now, keen and perhaps a bit satisfied. "He would have kept it for his own. And when he returned you would not have known your son."

 _True_ , Boromir thought, his mental voice tainted with shame and regret. _All true._

"Boromir was loyal to me! Not some wizard's pupil!" Denethor attempted to stand straighter, moving forward, and then fell, tumbling to the stone floor with a sickening slap.

Faramir jolted, making as if to move forward, but did not. "Father?" he questioned, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

And Denethor heaved himself up, and Boromir felt chills dance down his spine.

"My son," Denethor said, and his face was alight, so truly happy, but it was a mad joy.

Boromir wanted to remove the helm, then, to reveal his face.

But he could not.

Denethor's expression faded.

Crumbling into despair and loathing once more.

"Leave me," he spat at Faramir.

And Faramir did.

Out of the room, where Denethor's eyes could no longer trace over them both, Boromir pulled the helmet from his head.

And though it would have once shamed him, he did not check the tears that were streaming down his cheeks.

He reached for Faramir, clasping him in a hug, wondering why he had been so blind in the years before. Faramir was stiff against him for a long moment, and then his arm came up and clasped his brother's shoulder.

Boromir pulled back, searching Faramir's face and finding a roiling storm of emotions.

"I am sorry," he rasped, and it was an apology for not just one thing but many - so very many. "I'm so sorry."

* * *

She dreamt of wings.

Great, bat-like wings, beating like the thump of a heart against the air as they tried to keep the bodies attached to them afloat.

The sound was like the faint rumple of thunder as it rolled from the darkness of a storm, the rush of air across her cheeks scented with hints of dampened earth, for somewhere rain was falling.

She tilted her face upwards to the sky and embraced it.

Felt her senses soar beyond her body - immortal, aye, but still tied to the earth - and smiled.

She could have stayed there forever.

But time passed strangely, and soon she found herself turning, but not fast enough.

A great gaping maw of teeth and blood and endless evil grinned at her, and she felt the rain wash over her skin a second before the pain hit her and everything went black.

She woke gasping for breath, straining with ever muscle in her body - broken and strong alike - for the freedom she had felt.

Slowly, the shock subsided.

Tauriel sank back down onto the bed and found herself searching for something to fill the emptiness in her heart, or perhaps it was her mind.

Something was wrong, thrown off-kilter in a way she could not explain. It was as if one of her senses had been muted.

And for some reason, there was a voice in her head that was whispering.

 _Seena. Seena, Seena, Seena..._

* * *

" _Act as if I was not here,_ " Boromir had said. _"Pretend I am still dead and gone."_

And so now Faramir found himself standing before his father, and the crack in his voice was not feigned. It was easy enough to draw upon the deep well of emotions that he so often felt boiling just beneath the surface.

"You wish that our places had been exchanged," he husked. "That I had died and Boromir had lived."

Silence.

A breath that was more like a gasp, and Denethor spoke, even as his hand reached for the goblet of wine before him.

"Yes. Yes, I wish that."

And it was the off-handedness of it; the fact that it seemed like he was speaking more to himself,that cut deepest.

Faramir watched as Denethor lifted a goblet to his lips and took a long draught.

The tears stinging his eyes were blurring his vision, but he did not look away. "Since you are robbed or Boromir, I will do what I can in his stead."

He bowed - shallowly - and strode from the room, limping slightly, but stopped just before the double doors that led away.

"If I should return, think better of me, Father."

Icey words dropped like stones from even colder lips.

"That will depend on the manner of your return."

* * *

"No, brother - you cannot."

Boromir stood frozen, his words falling flat with shock and horror.

"I have to." There was a weariness in Faramir's manner, one that made him seem old and broken underneath the weight of responsibility. "I gave my word; and even then, it is my command."

So much had changed - so very much.

Boromir clenched his hand into a fist, muscles bunching, and wishing he could be the one to bear the sword.

But at the same time, there was a part of him that understood the need inside his brother to go and fight, to stand once more and try his best to win.

Even if it was a hopeless battle.

Boromir knew he would not be able to stop Faramir.

Not any more.

So he bowed his head, lifting a hand to his heart, and then met his brother's gaze.

"May you fly fast as the wind," he said. "And may your sword strike true."

* * *

The people of the city lined the street, faces tight and tired beneath the layers of dust.

Some were weeping.

Flowers fluttered to the ground before and around them, and he barely had a chance to admire their beauty before they were crushed and trampled to the ground beneath the horses' feet.

A beauty so quickly spoiled, he thought.

He heard the wizard before he saw him.

"Faramir!"

Gandalf was rushing towards him, clearly hoping to sway his opinion, or at least talk to him one last time.

He was no fool.

He knew he rode towards death as surely as the sun was to rise in the morning and set in the evening.

"Faramir," Gandalf was saying, and he focused as best he could upon the White Wizard. "Your father's will has turned to madness. Do not throw your life away so rashly!"

He could have laughed at that, but knew it would come out broken, like shards of pottery as they lay upon a tavern floor.

"Where does my allegiance lie if not here? This is the city of the Men of Numenor. I will gladly give my life to defend her beauty, her memory, her wisdom."

Gandalf looked up at him sadly, and did not lift a hand to stop him - though Faramir knew he could.

"Your father loves you, Faramir," the wizard said softly, his words no less vehement for their quietness. "He will remember it before the end."

"Aye," Faramir responded, "he may. But now is the beginning of the end, and it is already too late."

* * *

Audriel curled into herself, letting the rocking roll of the horse carry her away - away - away...

She was in another world, another time, and it was the one she had once imagined.

A babe lay in her arms, wrapped in filmy white cloth, the child's eyes as green as the forest in spring, but it was not red hair that stood in spikes from the babe's head.

It was silvery blonde.

The color of sunlight as it danced through beads of dew upon the grass, or cornsilk.

She was laughing.

Watching as someone stood before her, behaving foolishly, but she still loved him so.

Yes, she loved him.

She looked down at the girl child in her arms.

And let the dream fade away - back into the past, where it belonged.

Where she should have let it stay in the first place.

That dream-child was not real.

But Tauriel was.

* * *

Boromir stood in silence, his heart heavy.

He knew as well as anyone that Faramir was not coming back.

Not without some sort of miracle.

Footsteps behind him - he did not turn. He knew them, recognized the soft dance of leather soles across the floor.

"He is gone."

Braelyn stood behind him, arms folded neatly at sharp angles.

Boromir still did not move. "I know."

A faint breath of movement. "And you let him go?"

"Aye."

She was silent for a long moment, then moved closer, the scent of leather hanging heavy from her.

He forced himself not to inhale deeply.

"You know he rides to his death." The words were bald - she had never spared him any feelings.

But he turned, faced her, watching the glittering eyes as they glinted light back at him. "Yes," he said. "And I can do nothing to stop it. So I did not try."

A pause, and then her hand lifted and landed upon his shoulder.

She was standing so close...

Memories were rushing to the surface, ones he had once treasured...

"I am sorry," she said softly. Her eyes were flicking across his features.

And then she leaned forward, her lips meeting his own, searching, and the kiss tasted of tangy green apples -

He pulled her closer, savoring the feeling of muscles as they bunched beneath her skin almost as much as he enjoyed the little gasp that left her mouth at she was suddenly standing flush against him.

He let the world around him fade.

Let the fire grow and grow and grow, and they were burning together - like they once had, two parts of a whole, but now somehow stronger.

And eventually she cried out, and the stars before his eyes exploded into the night sky, streaks of fiery gold, and then everything was still and silent.

* * *

 _Lies and promises, promises and lies._

Twisting, mingling, writhing, and then dancing just out of reach.

Arwen shook the chill from her cloaked shoulders and lingered just a bit longer.

The beauty of the night was achingly familiar. Even now, as her vision dulled and her other senses faded somewhat - the bite of mortality - she thought it was perhaps one of the most gorgeous things she ever would have the privilege of gazing upon.

Sighing, she turned, hem of her shroud sweeping softly over the ground.

Tauriel was waiting.

She had come for Arwen in the middle of the night, skin icy, scars standing out starkly against her skin.

"I have to talk to you," she had said baldly.

Arwen had nodded, but, admittedly, had delayed.

She was not sure what she would do if what Tauriel told her was potentially dangerous.

Fingers dancing nervously, she lifted her head to the seated figure across the courtyard, face starkly lit by the moon.

"Tauriel?" she said softly.

Tauriel turned her face to face her.

"You came," she said, relief tinging her words, and Arwen felt a stab of guilt. "I thank you."

Arwen nodded haltingly. "What did you wish to speak of?"

Tauriels fingers on her right hand unfurled and then clenched tightly around her left wrist.

Arwen imagined she could hear the _thudthudthud_ of Tauriel's heartbeat.

"Narsil," Tauriel finally said. She was hesitating, stalling for time - Arwen had spoken to her enough to know that. And yet the awkwardness of their conversation was painful.

"Anduril now, Ada says. Broken shards made whole."

"It must be given to Aragorn."

"Aye."

"Who will carry it to him?"

Arwen hesitated. "I do not know," she said honestly. " _Ada_ , I suppose."

"I want to go with him when he rides out." The words were half-blurted, but there was a need in Tauriel's eyes that made Arwen suspect this was not spur-of-the-moment.

"Very well," she said carefully. "I would imagine he would have no objection."

Silence.

"When I had the vision of Narsil," Tauriel finally said carefully, "I did not know you had already discovered this. Did not know that by the time I got here with my _nana_ it would already have been reforged. But it was not the only thing I saw." Her eyes were unfocused, green like moss and Arwen found herself studying them curiously. "That which was once forsaken shall be forgiven, and a heart that did not believe in itself will become strong. And I do not know what it means."

Arwen was silent.

"I do not know either," she finally said softly. "But we will have to do our best to find out."

Tauriel looked at her. "That is not all. I am hearing a voice in my head. And it should not be there, for all is supposed to be silent now that Audriel has shut me off from the Other." She drew in a ragged breath. "And it is calling me Seena."

Arwen stared at her for a long, long time.

Then she held out a hand, beckoning.

"Come," she said gently, hair black like coal and skin like a white rose. "We should talk to Ada."

Tauriel looked at her hand for a long moment.

And then she reached out, slowly, and took it, pulling herself to her feet.

They stood eye to eye for a moment, and then turned - feet moving in unison - and left, moonlight lighting their way and the wind laughing gently in their ear, if wind could be said to do so.

 _Soon_ , the tree in the courtyard whispered raggedly. _Soon now. It has to be._

* * *

Times passes.

Slips through her fingertips like so much sand.

She gets to her feet with a ripple of mostly-red hair and murky green cloth.

Her eyes are dead.

She moves lean and lithe, all taught muscling and short, quick steps.

She is like the fox that had once laughed at her - so long ago, an eternity - red and sharp and cunning.

She is what they made her.

She is their past turned future.

She will not remember.

Not when it is all over.

She is no one.

She is nameless.

 _So the Shadow calls you home._

 _Do you answer?_

 _Yes,_ she says. Whispers the words to the wind and pushes down the shame boiling up inside. _I do._

* * *

 **So there we have it.**

 **My first update in ages. Which I really hope doesn't keep on happening.**

 **Anyways, thank you guys for sticking with me this far. If you wouldn't mind dropping me a note to let me know what you thought, it would be greatly appreciated. :)**


	46. Jagged

**Chapter 47. Hope y'all had a great holiday season, and Happy New Year!**

* * *

Tauriel met Lord Elrond's gaze with more than a little reproach in her eyes.

"Please," she said again. "I beg you - shed some light upon whatever it is that has happened, and seemingly still is."

Arwen lifted a brow gracefully. "You owe her this at least, Ada," she pointed out gently - but there was an underlying thread of steel.

Elrond was shaking his head - tired, so very tired - his brow furrowed. "If I open her eyes, it will only make things worse."

Tauriel flinched, but raised her chin in a show of weak defiance that seemed odd and somewhat childish, given how very old - old, and weary, lines on her face that had not been there just years ago - she looked. "It cannot possibly make things worse. I have been driven nearly mad, spilt my own blood upon the ground, come within a hairsbreadth of fading away. And yet here I stand, and you tell me that you cannot breathe so much as a word to guide me."

Lord Elrond's mouth was tight with what she thought was regret. "I have never spoken of this with anyone, not truly."

Arwen tilted her head to the side, hair shifting and sliding like ink. "It is long past time you remedy that," she murmured. "I know enough to tell her. I ask it of you so that I do not mangle any pieces of information or dishonor anyone's memory. Hiding it away will do good no longer."

Elrond's mouth tightened - impossibly - even further. He looked past them, out into the hazy grey, booted foot tapping a rhythm upon the cold floor.

"Very well," he finally said, and turned his gaze to Tauriel once more. "Look into my eyes."

Tauriel did so, with more than a little apprehension, letting herself float and then sink into him, but nothing happened.

She felt that something should have happened - knew that something had faltered and then failed.

Elrond frowned, but it was not out of irritation. "She did a more thorough job than perhaps even I could have," he muttered, regret sliding across his face for a heartbeat. "Even now, for all her speak of change and love, she cannot allow a threat to herself stay alive."

Tauriel flinched and felt chills race down her back, though she was not sure exactly why, and felt that she had no wish to push the subject further - despite the fact that she knew she should want to.

"So tell me," she said, her voice raspy.

Silence, broken only by Arwen sinking into a chair behind where they stood, staring at eachother.

"It started with Seena," Elrond finally said. "My Seena. My sister, my heart. And perhaps it will end with her as well - her name, at least. She was powerful, but she darkened. Jealousy, insecurity, they poisoned her. And as Sauron grew ever stronger - so long ago - she turned to him for aid. She allowed him to experiment upon her, and her very blood turned black. She was turning into a Orc, the foulness spreading across her, worsening what I now believe to be madness of some sort.

"And then she fell in love. One of my dearest friends - and perhaps a little bit of me was angry at her for that. They wed, despite my warning to him that she was not what she seemed - yet I could not bring myself to forbid it, for who was I to spoil what seemed to be their true happiness?

"She soon carried a babe in her belly. And I feared for her, and for her unborn child. But she seemed to have changed - she was no longer seeking out Sauron's aid, and indeed Mithrandir told me that she had turned her back on the Dark Lord before he could complete whatever foul experiment he had been conducting upon her body and mind.

"Time passed. I grew complacent, perhaps, not keeping as close of an eye upon her as I once had.

"Though I did not realize it then, I look back and know that the madness was only growing. Fermenting beneath the skin, feeding off of the pressure to be something she had never been, would never be.

"War was coming. We all knew it. And it ripped her to shreds inside and out, for she knew that in some ways she had contributed to Sauron's power.

"She began to kill."

Elrond stopped, shaking his head and turning away for a long moment. Tauriel sucked in a trembling breath, chest aching, but remained silent.

"I did nothing," he finally continued. "And I look back on it and cannot understand why.

"She bled black.

"I now know that all of her children - all three, for not a one was spared - did as well.

"And as everything finally came to a head, I let her put on armor and fight - fool that I was - for the Light. She lasted longer than I should have expected, honestly. But towards the very end, injured, bleeding out, the haze took hold and she drove a blade up through her husband's heart.

"They died together.

"Seena's first daughter went mad with grief - though she too hid it well, long enough that it was too late for me to do anything. But it was her last daughter, the one that looked the most like her - I oft times found myself calling her Seena - that I thought could be spared. She had been but a babe when Seena died, still in the cradle.

"She was the only one who stayed. The other two ran, as far away as they could get, and it hurt, though I tried not to let it. I had other things to focus upon. War had ended, but there was extensive damage across the lands.

"She had a daughter, Aruelle" - Tauriel gasped like someone had punched her in the gut, paling somewhat - "and Aruelle was everything her mother was and more.

"But once again, I was mistaken. Aruelle's mother broke like glass, not tempered by time but destroyed by it.

"She went truly, truly mad. She drove a blade through her heart, and I cut her babe from her cooling body.

"And I named her Seena.

"But no matter what I did, it was never enough, and the past came back to haunt me once again. She traveled to the Greenwood, and that was when I believe the end began."

Tauriel wrapped her arms tight around her ribcage, squeezing until she could hardly breathe, because she knew at least part of what must have happened next. Arwen was still and silent behind her; had she not turned to assure herself of the elleth's presence she would not have believed her near at all.

"She took up another name: Audriel. The alias of Seena's oldest daughter, that had been used in the Greenwood before. And she wormed her way into the heart of the Elvenking's court, spreading like poison, a beauty as strange and terrible as Death's. _'A face like a moon and a smile like a razor blade.'_ She was well for a time - perhaps even came to love Thranduil, but something changed. I do not know the heart of what happened. The Elvenking himself refuses to speak of much of it, even now. The woodland began to revolt even more from Thranduil's already weak grasp.

"Perhaps all would have been well, had she not found a mentor of sorts.

"Gildyril." He spat the name like acid, and there was legitimate distaste in his voice. "Seena's oldest. And perhaps the most twisted being I have ever had the misfortune of crossing paths with. I wish I had been able to keep her from the Shadow, for there was little more than a broken child inside when she completed what Sauron had started upon her mother, to the best of her capabilities. She had gone to the woodland for safe-haven, and unbeknownst to everyone but a chosen few, she had created her own little kingdom.

"The Shadow Hands. True abominations. Thranduil had no way to sense it, cut off as he was from the heart of his forest. A cult, I would call them. Gildyril found the most depraved beings and turned them to her cause, one of blood and death and revenge, even though she could not kill those who were already dead.

"Now, they are little more than hired blades. Assasins of the finest form, all skilled in death in its purest form and many capable of forms of magick as well. As I understand it, they have never been discovered in any number; they seem to be utterly elusive. Gildyril was their leader, and she taught Audriel much, if not all, she knew. Recognized the blood they shared - scented it like a wolf - and honed in for the kill.

"Gildyril was captured decades later and thrown into the Elvenking's dungeons for crimes beyond measure, and to my knowledge is now dead."

Tauriel remembered the elf - remembered the white hair and the madness that glazed over her eyes, and shivered, because she had sensed that had there not been bars between them, so long ago, Gildyril would have killed her, no matter the cost.

"Audriel became everything Gildyril was, perhaps more. But then she had you." Elrond's gaze, previously distant, was suddenly sharp, burning into Tauriel's eyes. She felt chills race down her spine and quelled the urge to shiver.

"She had made it clear she never want a child. Fate, it seems, did not agree. And so she pawned you off to her sister, Aruelle, who through it all had managed to find peace and crafted a life of her own. Aruelle was, for all purposes, your mother.

"And Audriel trained, and killed, and sunk lower and lower into the twisted sickness of her mind.

"She was born of madness. And she seemed to carry it throughout her life. I occasionally regret cutting her from her mother's stomach, but then, where would we all be now?" He shook his head, pain and regret painted across his face.

"She tried to take you back. But her sister had claimed you, and even the forest wanted you as its own.

"So she ran once more.

"She is running even now. Back to those who trained her, back to the ones she had loved and then stabbed in the back. I will not lie - perhaps they will return the favor.

"But you, Tauriel. Mayhap she has saved you, mayhap she has doomed you. You took up a name - and it was whispered by the wind to a hundred ears - _Seena_. And the Dark Lord knows, recognizes it, can feel the similarities passed down over the centuries.

"He wants you. Wants what you hold - a key to the woodland, that which his minions have ever had trouble fully piercing. Wants that which had once escaped him.

"Even now, he searches. Your mind has been closed off. He cannot take you through it, not with what Audriel has done. You need not fear that. But a piece of you has also been stolen- and if you are not careful, it may very well drive you mad. So take care, I beg you. You are the last.

"I have done all I can.

"The blade is once again yours to wield."

Silence.

Tauriel choked on a sob and turned away, to Arwen, not fully knowing why she was crying, but hurting deep down where few things could touch. Arwen stood, drawing her close, tears welling in her own eyes at the sheer force of the

emotion in the room. Elrond turned away and bowed his head, shoulders shaking slightly.

For all her experience, Tauriel was treading ground that she had never walked before, and did not understand.

She was hurting.

And so Arwen did the only thing she could and let her weep.

* * *

Audriel dismounted, flipping the reins over the horse's neck and beginning to unbuckle the bridle altogether. She had no wish to subject the animal to what she was about to travel through. Sending the straps of leather sliding to the ground, she stepped back and shooed the mare away as best she could.

Swiveling to face the forest, she closed her eyes for a long moment, inhaling deeply and holding the air in her lungs until they began to burn, then exhaling slowly.

Her hands were shaking.

Angry at herself, she clenched them into fists and let the mask rise up, forcing a smirk upon her lips and a swagger to her step.

She took a step forward.

Glided, cat-like, every muscle seemingly strung tight as a bowstring.

She could feel her pulse jumping erratically in her neck. Hated that she was reacting in such a way, but hated that she had let herself become - this - _thing_ \- even more.

 _You are nothing._

 _Nothing._

 _Inconsequential._

 _We made you, and you are ours now. Forever and always we will own you, until you fall dead upon our feet or the sun sets upon the horizon for the last time._

A laugh danced upon her lips, threatening to tumble into the empty air, and the killing cold she knew so well began to creep into place - pushing aside her fear and making her strong.

But still the memories taunted, as they always had - and she knew likely always would.

She moved forward then, swift and silent, careful to keep her face in some approximation of dark carefree joy.

She knew better than anyone that they were always watching.

* * *

The girl - Eowyn - was staring at him. Legolas could not grasp why, for he knew as well as any that her affections were directed towards Aragorn. But still her gaze - pale and steady, and entirely disconcerting - lingered.

Eventually, she made her move. She slipped up alongside him with soft whispers as cloth danced along the blades of grass, and he felt his entire body stiffen somewhat. "Aye?" he asked, glancing at her with apprehension.

"You are an Elvenprince, are you not?" she replied.

Legolas inclined his head somewhat in affirmation.

"What is it like?"

He was at a loss for words for a moment; the question was unexpected. He glanced at her again. She stood straight and strong, shoulders pushed back in a stance that he had come to recognize as that of one who often wielded a blade. He did not dislike the girl, just had no personal interest in seeking her out, and did not understand why she seemed to be ever behind him, watching - and waiting perhaps, like a vulture waiting for an injured animal to finally keel over and die.

"It is not something I would be able to describe and do justice," Legolas finally replied. It was true - he could not even begin to condense all the many, many years into a conversation, much less a few words. It was not something to speak but rather live.

But Eowyn had nodded in what seemed to be understanding. "Why is your father not here himself?"

Legolas felt himself flinch. "Because he deemed it to be in my best interests to go in his stead."

She raised a pale, finely arched brow. "Then why do you look miserable more often then not?"

He did not have an adequate response to that, try as he might to find one, and eventually ceased trying. "There are elements at play that you are not aware of," he said, vaguely annoyed at himself, and abandoned her to her own thoughts.

* * *

He looked at her, asleep, her breath a soft rhythmic hum, and did not know what to say. She had always been able to make him tongue-tied, even back when he had not yet found out her gender. Even when just in training, she had looked at him with eyes that snapped with intelligence and he - far above them all in rank - had been at a loss for a retort to the endless questioning. She was no classic beauty, had never been. He knew it was likely what had helped her pass as a man as she fought her way through training and eventually onto the battlefield.

He had loved her dearly. Perhaps for even longer then he realized.

Braelyn arched upwards, stretching like a cat, and he did not avert his gaze.

She surveyed Boromir with quiet contentment. "You are well?"

He knew she was asking after more then just his health. "I am," he said, even though his scars were burning like a Balrog itself was inside his blood, fighting to get out - but he would not trade what they had shared in for anything. "And you?"

A lightning-fast grin. "Must you ask?" She stood, reaching for her clothes, and he had a split second's thought to reach out and stop her.

"You are leaving?" he asked.

She glanced at him from where she was lacing up her boots. "Aye. I must serve the Steward and his many whims. My watch will begin soon; I cannot leave my men." Her gaze softened. "Even as much as I might wish to."

He looked away at that, swallowing. "I, too, shall go then. I would keep vigil for my brother if he returns."

She nodded, and said nothing.

Silence fell, and soon - so much faster than he would have liked, if things were different - they had parted and gone their separate ways.

* * *

The bag was jerked from her head with a snap of rough burlap, and the world spun wildly for several seconds as she fought to regain her sense of balance. Drawing in a shaky breath, Audriel surveyed the inky blackness around her and then lifted her gaze to the three individuals staring down at her, heads tilted to the side as they stared right back.

"It's been a while," Audriel finally rasped. Her mouth was dry and gritty; she could taste earth on the back of her tongue and would have spat upon the ground if she had enough saliva to do so.

The shortest of the three purred in response - there was no other way of describing the sound, wordless as it was.

A mask seemed to slide from their face, dropping away into the shadow, and Audriel almost flinched in recognition.

"Maeve," she said, shoving the horror from her voice. "I had not thought you survived." She pulled experimentally at her arms and knew that she had no hope of getting out - her wrists and ankles were bound tightly to wooden poles, it seemed.

"Not for lack of trying on your part, I suppose," Maeve said silkily. No one knew what she was - not truly woman or elf, she was the dark side of the moon to Audriel's muted silver glow. Always a step behind, always in her shadow - until it was too late. She had been Gildyril's other protegee, but had not earned the mad elf's love - or whatever passed as it - like Audriel had. "I have no doubt your leaving without so much as assuring my heart still beat was born of nothing but affection." Sarcasm dripped like sugar-sweet acid from her words.

Audriel knew that she had little ground to stand on, and even that was slipping away. "I come bearing both a message and a request for Aedan," she said.

A quick-silver grin. "Oh, he's not in charge anymore. Hasn't been for quite a while, really." Maeve inspected her nails. "I am."

And Audriel knew she had played the game wrong, had fallen too many steps behind, and that she could very well be dead before she took her next breath. There was silence, and then the other two figures abruptly melted into the darkness.

"So why have you come back, Seena?" Maeve said, kneeling and drawing closer - too close - her eyes a milky brown even in the murkiness. "To beg for your life, perhaps, as I did when you left me behind with an arrow through my ribcage and a dozen riders bearing down upon me? Or to meet your end with some amount of grace?"

She had a split second to think. To calculate and speak. And so she did. "Nay. I have come to apologize, and as I said, to bear a message."

"Really." The word was drawled. "And tell me - why should I deign to listen to you after what you have done?"

"Because you will regret it sorely if you do not." There was no hint of uncertainty in her voice - and even if there had been, it was no lie.

Maeve looked at her, hard. Raked her eyes over Audriel's countenance, searching for any sign of falsehood.

And then she lunged forward, slamming her lips into Audriel's, and Audriel felt her body immediately go on defense, her hands twitching for a knife that was no longer there. It was not a kiss of love or even lust - but of possession. A message.

 _"You are mine,_ " Maeve snarled in her ear, pulling back, teeth bared, blood dripping from her lips from when she had bitten Audriel's own. "And if you betray me again I will drive a blade through your heart myself."

Audriel sucked in a shaky breath. "I am yours," she whispered, and let herself sink back a hundred years and more. Gildyril's face floated in front of her, hair stark white and madness twisting her lips. She closed her eyes and raged like a hurricane inside - _he knew, he knew, he had to have known and I will slice a blade across his throat with joy in my heart_ \- but still smiled.

Smiled in the face of Death.

Maeve rose, unfolding herself, and stepped back.

Audriel had a split second to try and recoil - purely in instinct, as she knew it would do no good - before the pommel of her own dagger slammed against her head and the world went black.

* * *

"My lord!" a soldier called. Theoden waved in acknowledgment. "Hail to you sire!"

"Grimbold, how many?" Theoden asked.

"I bring 500 men from the Westfold my lord."

"We have 300 more from Fenmarch, Theoden-King," another man said.

He grimaced. "Where are the riders from Snowbourn?"

The soldier dropped his gaze. "None have come, my lord."

Aragorn saw Theoden flinch - barely - at that, but the king shrugged of the bite.

"Six thousand spears - less than half of what I had hoped for."

Aragorn considered biting his tongue, but knew that doing so would likely do nothing but make things worse. "Six thousand will not be enough to break the lines of Mordor."

Theoden's gaze sparked as he stared at Aragorn. "More will come." He turned and began to walk away.

"Every hour lost hastens Gondor's defeat," Aragorn called after him. "We have until dawn, and then we must ride."

Theoden stopped, and nodded in agreement, though his face seemed somewhat wearier. Somewhere near-by, a horse neighed in fear, and they both turned to look. The horses were all nervous, ears either pinned to their heads or flicking back and forth rapidly.

"They do not like this place," Aragorn murmured.

"Aye," Theoden replied. "I cannot say I do either."

The wind hissed eerily in their ears as they parted ways.

* * *

Tauriel mounted the horse with ease that belied her aching bones. Her face was taught, her cheekbones painfully carved out. Arwen caught at her hand, eyes steady in the paleness of her face.

"Tauriel," she said, her voice breaking. "Take care, I beg you."

Tauriel closed her eyes, mind straining to both remember and forget. Lord Elrond's presence was painfully near. "I will do my best. You have been a true friend to me, Arwen - truer then I deserve. I wish you peace and all thehappiness in the world."

A tear slid down Arwen's cheek. "I will not get it, no matter how much you wish it, if the battle does not fall to us. But I thank you still. Come back to me - come back to Suldal, for she has no rider nor any connection to the few of us left here. She is like your Memory."

Tauriel flinched but did not waver. "I can not know Fate's hand. I can only know I will do my best."

Arwen smiled, heartbreakingly beautiful, and stepped away, nodding at her father.

Lord Elrond glanced once at Tauriel, who tipped her chin in affirmation of her readiness to leave.

They looked something alike then, mouths tight and brows drawn low. Arwen saw it and, finally, recognized it as the drops of blood they shared.

And so they flew.

* * *

"The horses are restless," Legolas murmured, "and the men are abnormally quiet." His eyes scanned the busy camp, lingering on a group of men who seemed to be shivering as they stood in a circle.

"They - we - grow nervous in the shadow of the mountain," Eomer said, boots crunching upon the gravelly earth.

Gimli pointed towards a cleft in the rocks, mist swirling around it. "That road there - where does it lead?"

Legolas grimaced. "It is the road to the Dimholt, the door under the mountain." He had heard tales and stories enough of what lurked there.

"None who venture there ever return," Eomer growled, looking uncomfortable as a horse squealed nearby. "That mountain is evil." He turned abruptly, trudging away.

Gimli scowled. "Rather rude of him," the dwarf grumbled, before stomping after Eomer.

Privately, Legolas allowed himself a small smile, and then straightened. Green eyes had flashed in his mind for a second. _Be careful_ , Tauriel's voice whispered, and he jumped. His eyes closed for a moment as he pulled the images close, wrapping them around himself like a cloak. Her laughter was a clear bright bell, and he imagined - perhaps even hoped - that she had found a way to watch over him from afar, ludicrous though it was.

Red hair rippled tantalizingly before her - presence? - disappeared, leaving him trembling and slightly chilled.

He gathered himself, feeling foolish, and followed after Gimli.

* * *

"There," Eowyn laughed, tapping on the helm seated upon Merry's head. "A true esquire of Rohan."

Merry reached up and felt the helmet, smirking in satisfaction before drawing his sword. "I'm ready!"

Eowyn yelped, moving backwards, laughter curling her lips. "Take care, Master Hobbit! I have no wish to lose a finger today!" she chided jokingly.

Merry blushed. "Sorry. It isn't all that dangerous. It's not even sharp." He glanced down at the sword with some dissatisfaction.

"Well that's no good," Eowyn mused. "You won't kill many Orcs with a blunt blade." She paused, then brightened. "Come," she said, and exited the tent. He followed, sword hissing through the air as he rotated it in his hand. "To

the smithy, go!" she laughed, nudging him on the shoulder." He grinned and jogged off, shoulders held straight and proud. She felt a spark of affection for the hobbit, a smile quirking her mouth upwards at one side.

"You should not encourage him," Eomer said, his voice husky with the hours of shouting orders earlier on. He sat with Gamling, hands held to a fire though it was not yet fully dark outside.

They were all cold, sitting as they were in the shadow of the mountain.

"You should not doubt him," Eowyn replied, a frown creasing her brow.

Eomer laughed, and the sound grated upon her nerves. "I do not doubt his heart, only the reach of his arm." His hands slapped his knees, and he rose. Gamling followed suit, chuckling.

"Why should Merry be left behind?" Eowyn demanded. "He has as much cause to go to war as you. Why can he not fight for those he loves?" Her indignation was draping her words with ice, and Eomer did not look pleased. He approached her, not threatening, but not welcome either.

"You know as little of war as that hobbit. When the fear takes him, and the blood and the screams and the horror of battle take hold - do you think he would stand and fight? No. He would flee. And he would be right to do so." He reached out, putting a calloused hand on her shoulder even as her eyes turned to gray fire. "War is the province of men, Eowyn. There is no place for others there."

She shrugged his hand away, shaking with anger. She longed to shout at him that she - _they_ \- had fought, and prevailed, before abominations and creatures of the Shadow. That gender and size mattered little, as long as one wanted to spend their last breath with a blade in their hand. Gimli was a member of the Fellowship, as was Tauriel- did he not understand and respect that and apply similar logic to others who were not of the same race or gender as himself?

Instead, she turned on her heel, arms wrapped tightly around her waist in an effort not keep her temper contained.

She was too close to her goal to slip up now. Theoden could not have cause to have her watched any closer.

* * *

The night was closing in around them.

Legolas sat with his back to a tree - one of the few around them, short and scraggly as it grasped for a hold in the flinty earth.

They were all nervous. Even Aragorn would stare unseeingly off into the distance for long moments before shaking himself. Legolas could have sworn he heard voices whispering continuously, and had taken care to stay close to the fires. The King of the Dead did not take kindly to those who encroached upon his realm. Gimli alone seemed to be mostly unaffected.

Wearily, he rubbed a hand down his face, settling in even more. He needed sleep, if only to escape the eeriness of the night around him.

And so he let his eyes drift closed - for once - and allowed an even deeper darkness take him.

* * *

 _"You came." A hand caressed his cheek, brushing across his lips, and Legolas reeled backwards, scrambling for steady footing. The wind whistled around them._

 _His eyes snapped to the red-haired elf's face, relief and then icy anger settling across his face. "You are not - cannot be - Tauriel."_

 _She inclined her head, and his chest gave a painful throb. This was not the Tauriel he last seen. She was relaxed, a lazy smile draped across her lips, the expression so unfamiliar he found himself hurtling back through time to_ _when she was not yet Captain of the Guard. "I am. Just not the one you recognize." She patted the ground, folding her legs and seating herself. "Sit."_

 _He was shaking, he registered vaguely. But he complied._

 _"Who are you?" he demanded, voice catching._

 _"The piece of her that Audriel shut away to save her from Sauron. I am Tauriel. She is Seena. We are two sides of a coin, the same and yet utterly different. I walk the woodland paths, and she fears what such an action would_ _mean."_

 _"You are a piece of her?" Legolas's voice rose sharply._

 _"I am the good in her. The bearer of her birthright- the woodland. She is Seena, the Shadow boiling in her veins, even as I fight it. And now that I am gone, she will find it harder than ever to keep her footing amongst the landslide."_

 _She - Tauriel, he thought - tilted her head to one side, the movement uncannily graceful. He stomped the thought that she was quite beautiful down viciously. "I am the piece of good that her mother, Audriel never had, but Aruelle_ _bore aplenty."_

 _It did not make any sort of sense. Legolas struggled for a long moment to comprehend it, and gave up. "Why are you here?"_

 _She shrugged, eyes slanting with amusement as she looked at him. The bronze of her tunic glinted. "I - she, too - missed you."_

 _It hit him like a punch in the gut. "Why would you tell me this," he whispered raggedly. Hopes and dreams tumbled in around him, crowing that they perhaps had a chance at being reality once more, and he tried not to let them_ _choke him._

 _Sadness flickered across her face. "Because I fear that if she never lets me back in, she will let all love in her life die. She has cared for you for a long time. She will just not admit it for fear of being hurt."_

 _Legolas closed his eyes, something rising up in his throat as he struggled for words. He did not even know what he wanted anymore._ She lied, _he reminded himself._ Remember that.

 _"Yes," Tauriel said, and he opened his eyes to find her staring at him with quiet affection. "She did. But only because she had to."_

 _The words threw him off balance._

 _He was quiet for a long moment. "She -" He gestured at her. "You? Blast it - Seena. She mirrors your feelings about me?" It was absurdly convoluted._

 _Tauriel laughed, red hair shifting, and once again he felt like the breath had been knocked out of him. He had not heard that sound in what felt like forever. "She does."_

 _She leaned forward, green eyes flicking across his face, and he held his breath in painful expectation before mentally slapping himself. After a short eternity, she lifted a hand and brushed it over his cheek again, callouses_ _scratching his skin._

 _"You will need to wake up now," she murmured. "Seena will be coming. Remember what I said."_

 _"Wait!" he almost shouted, grabbing for her wrist, wanting to do something,_ anything _to make her stay even though it was incredibly daft._

 _She smiled, dissolving before his very eyes, and he was shaking, for what if this truly was the last he would ever see of the light in Tauriel - the one who walked the earth and not just his dreams._

 _"Goodbye," she whispered._

* * *

He awoke gasping for breath, and raised a trembling hand to his almost painfully tingling lips.

He could have sworn he tasted cinnamon.

* * *

 **Hope y'all enjoyed! If you wouldn't mind leaving me a note I'd greatly appreciate it. :) They generally give me motivation barrel through the writing process.**


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